There was little to do with Club life that she didn't agree on, having been subject to it for the majority of her life - even depending on it for the most part. The sense and ideals of brotherhood and family being deeper than blood were morals that she could easily get behind; knowing that there would always be someone would always be there to back you up, and most likely to aid and abet whatever mischief you involved yourself in. She even believed in the punishments of traitors and those not so dedicated as some. But the one thing that really crawled up under her skin was the separation of the sexes. As far as she was concerned - and from what she knew, she was along with the rest of the twenty-first century - girls were just as capable as boys; in fact, in many cases, they were better.
But within the club, that was not the case. Men rode motorcycles, women rode bitch. That was the way it had always been done, and there was not a doubt in her mind that that was the way things would continue.
Caoimhe blew out an frustrated sigh and glanced - not for the first time - at the clock above the Clubhouse bar. Chibs had been in the Chapel for the past fifteen minutes. How long did it really take for a group of men, a group of fathers and sons, to come to a conclusion of whether or not a father and his child could finally be together after so many years? The whole performance was a waste of time in her book - or at least, on this side of the door, that was how it seemed.
Finally after a moment or two of unrelenting foot-tapping, the Chapel door opened a little and Chibs stuck his head through the gap.
"C'mon in, lass," he said, jerking his head towards the room behind him in invitation. "We're ready for you."
Straightening her top and running a hand through her tousled curls, Caoimhe stepped towards her father and the impending knowledge of her fate. He stood to one side until she had passed by him before closing the door and returning to his seat. She returned to her previous place standing behind him, facing the rest of the table.
She noticed that Juice's ears were quite seriously tinged with pink and that he was refusing to meet her or Chibs' gaze. Caoimhe closed her eyes and briefly prayed to a God that she didn't believe in that the doors of the Chapel were soundproofed; she knew that she hadn't exactly been subdued when calling her father out in the bar.
Bobby still had a wide Cheshire Cat grin plastered over his face as he eyed Juice out of the corner of his eye, but once he met Caoimhe's gaze over the Redwood, it evolved into a hearty chuckle.
"You put him straight on a few things, darlin'?" he asked, a humorous glint in his eye as he nodded towards Chibs.
Jax interrupted, a slight leer on his lip. "We all know that, Bobby." He leaned back in his chair, arms on the armrests and let loose a course laugh.
Shit, she thought. Those bloody doors aren't fucking soundproof. She could feel the colour rising through her cheeks and she lowered her eyes once again to the floor, watching as her boot swung and the toe scuffed along the worn wood. Scrunching her nose up a little, she allowed the embarrassment to take her over completely.
Clay cleared his throat, attracting the attention of the table once again.
"Alright, boys. Settle down."
The men surrounding the table began to smother their laughter with their hands, most throwing a glance in Caoimhe's direction as they fought for control over their smiles. She felt a small smile cross her lips as she caught the eye of the eldest member of SAMCRO, who had continued to chuckle softly. He passed her a wink over his son's head - there was no denying that those two were related.
"So, we have something to discuss with you," Clay began, catching her in his gaze like a rabbit caught in headlights.
This had been the moment she had been truly dreading; not finding her father and risking pure rejection, not recounting her past in front of a room full of strangers and seeing their faces change as the story progressed, but the results of the vote. Her fate had once again been passed into the hands of unknown bikers without her consent, she had been left to hang in the balance whilst they decided what was best for her.
"We've had a vote. That how we run things. We're a democracy here." He bared his teeth in what she supposed was meant to be a smile, but came across as more threatening than anything else.
She nodded. "I assumed as much. I mean, that's how SAMBEL and the other charters are run, right?"
Chibs nodded in reply.
"Well, let's get down to it," Clay said. "We've done some thinking and it appears to be that we are permitting you to remain in Charming for the foreseeable future. Under a number of conditions, you understand."
Caoimhe felt a massive smile split across her face in slow-motion. She'd had little doubt that this would be the result of the men's "thinking time", but there had still been a part of her that had remained unconvinced.
"We're going to demand a paternity test." Jax took over from his president. "Chibs here is sure that you are indeed the three-year old he saw last, but the club has to be one hundred percent certain that we know who we let into our homes."
She nodded, reaching over her father's shoulder to grip his hand. He squeezed her fingers so tightly that there was momentary blood loss in the tips, but she couldn't have cared less. She was being given the chance to get to know her father; not from a photograph and a number of old stories that were flung around the SAMBEL Clubhouse on occasion, or from the news headlines concerning the Sons of Anarchy, but in person. There was nothing that she had ever wanted more.
Perhaps, had she not been so overjoyed at the prospect of finally knowing her Da, Caoimhe may have given oxygen to the embers that burned in her stomach, and would have been fully encompassed by the inextinguishable flicker of rage and frustration that she held dear for the misogynistic ways of the biker world.
"Second," Clay continued. "You're going to be staying with Chibs. You will be accompanied by a member of the Club whenever you are not at home, and we're going to ask that you work in the garage - paperwork most likely - as a way of paying your dues, if you will."
She closed her eyes and nodded. None of that seemed overly unreasonable for what she was getting in return. At least, that was what she kept telling herself, confident in the fact that the men were buying her front, and hopeful that even she might eventually believe it.
Upon opening her eyes, she met Clay's gaze and he once again flashed her his fearfully toothy grin.
"Alright, sweetheart. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave and wait outside until Chapel is done."
Caoimhe nodded in his direction, collected her papers from Tig and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Collecting her bag and returning her folder to its previous home, she turned and faced the clubhouse. Taking it all in for the first time, she realised that it was a spacious main room, complete with sofas, a pool table and a bar. A few people were lingering around, a young looking woman - perhaps a year or two older than Caoimhe herself - had taken up residence behind the bar and was polishing the glasses that lay behind it. Two others had set up the pool table and were part way through a game.
Caoimhe headed to the bar and took a seat on one of the stools that sat in front of it. The crow-eater looked up at her and offered a vague smile.
"You must be Scotty's kid," she said amicably.
Caoimhe shot her a tight smile back, "Yeah, looks like."
"Can I get you a drink?"
"Two shots of scotch and a beer would be awesome."
"We've only got Miller."
Caoimhe shrugged half-heartedly. "To be completely honest, I just need some alcohol in my system."
The girl tossed her luscious blonde curls back over her shoulder and let out a delicate laugh. "I know exactly how that feels."
An hour or so later, Caoimhe had successfully worn a dent into the footrest of the barstool that she was perched on, and the toe of her left boot appeared slightly more tarnished than it had before.
She spun around in her seat as she heard the large doors of the Chapel swing open, creaking slightly on their aged hinges.
Chibs was the first out into the main room as the men exited, and he headed straight over to the bar to stand alongside his daughter.
"You ready to go, lass?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
Caoimhe nodded, tipped back her last shot and, throwing a smile over her shoulder at the girl behind the bar, followed her father out into the Californian sunshine.
Flipping her sunglasses down onto her nose, she adjusted the hair that was precariously balanced in a mess on top of her head.
"Are we riding, Da?" she asked, readjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.
Chibs shook his head and pointed towards a pick up truck that was parked along the far wall of the garage lot. "No. We're taking the club truck. Thought it would be easier than anything else."
Chibs pulled up outside a bungalow that stood a little on the small side. It's cream coloured panelling and ash shutters sang out bachelor, but at the same time appeared inviting and homely. The front yard was of equal proportion to the house and neatly kept, low cut grass and trimmed hedges with the occasional splash of seasonal flowers sprouting through.
He cut the engine of the battered truck and the silence resounded through the cab. He and Caoimhe sat in the companionable quiet for a moment before either spoke while she peered out of the passenger window at her new residing.
"It's not much, I know, lass. But I haven't really needed much with only me." Chibs shifted in the driver's seat, turning to face his daughter and reaching across the bench seat to touch his fingers to the back of her hand.
She froze, immediately looking down at their hands as though not entirely sure what to do with such contact. After a pause, a small smile lifted the corner of her lips and she flipped her hand to take a hold of his.
"I've been living on the run for the past nine years, Da. It's more than enough to just have found you." Her voice caught a little in her throat, and he sensed that there was a lot about her time riding down the country that she was keeping from him.
He leaned across and lay a kiss on the top of her head. "I'm so glad you're here, darlin'. I can't find the words..."
She gripped his fingers a little tighter before wiping away any rogue tears from her cheek with her free hand.
"Come on," he said eventually. "Let's go and get you settled."
She nodded, freeing him from her clutch and grabbing a hold of her bag before throwing the door open and sliding from the seat to the sidewalk.
He followed her lead, jogging around the front of the truck to meet her as she hovered by the start of the front path.
Caoimhe followed as he walked up to the front door, taking the steps a little slower than he did, hesitating for a split second as he unlocked the door and held it open for her to pass through.
Taking a breath, she stepped around him and entered the quaint looking house.
The main room that she found herself in was an open plan kitchen and living area, with a large comfortable black leather sofa directly in front of the door, facing the wall to the far left of the room. Between two large windows, a large flatscreen television hung on the wall above an antique fireplace. To the right, stretching from just past the centre of the room to the far wall lay the kitchen, with black marble top counters lining the walls and a large island nestled in the middle. All of the appliances were gleaming stainless steel, and the cabinets were painted a similar off-white to the walls. Above the sink on the back wall, a large window showed a reasonable sized deck, complete with table and chairs and a swinging wooden bench with red and white striped cushions thrown across it.
"Wow." Caoimhe whispered. "This is not exactly your regular biker's lair," she said with a laugh as she turned to face Chibs who was still standing anxiously by the front door.
He laughed. "No, I suppose not. But you get enough of that at the clubhouse. And as much as I love it, it's nice to come home to somethin' a little different."
She nodded, spinning again to survey the room in front of her. Chibs crossed the room to the kitchen, planting his hands on the marble countertop of the island and looked across at her.
"Do you want anythin', lass? Food, drink...?"
"A shower would be amazing," she said with a smile continuing to face her lips.
"That can be arranged." Chibs motioned to a door right at the other end of the room. That there's the bathroom. I'll grab you a couple of towels." This he did, pulling open the second door, one that stood a little closer to them. Caoimhe followed him into what she rightly assumed was his bedroom.
Again the colour scheme was minimal. The wooden floor and off-white walls continued through from the main room, and the large double bed as covered in a dusky grey cover with maroon throw pillows dotted around as though he had thrown them there haphazardly as he rushed out the door.
Chibs had moved to a small cupboard laid into the wall to the left of the door. He pulled out two large black fluffy towels and handed them to Caoimhe, who wrapped her arms around them, hugging the soft material to her.
He then led her out of the room and to the bathroom door. Pausing here, he looked down at her one, albeit large, bag.
"There's shampoo and stuff in there, so help yourself." He said, turning the handle and pushing the door open for her.
She thanked him with a small smile and closed the door behind her as he wandered off towards the kitchen in search of food.
Standing under the jet stream of hot water, Caoimhe tipped her head back and relished in the feeling of washing away her past few days on the road. Nothing much had happened in that time, but the weight of travelling and the anxiety that had knotted her stomach in prelude to meeting her father had done their best in aggravating her.
Running her hands through her hair, she reached for one of the bottles on the side. Having checked the various labels, she poured a decent amount of shampoo into her palm and began lathering it through her hair.
As expected, her fingertips brushed against the various scars that littered her scalp that he her hair concealed well. The time Jimmy had found her swigging from a bottle of whisky that she'd taken from his liquor cabinet. The time that he'd come home drunk and she had startled him into pushing her into a side table. The list went on. It wasn't until she reached a particularly jagged line that ran along the base of her scalp that her breathing hitched and she felt emotionally attached to any one of the reminders of her past. The time that... She shook her head brutally. No. She wasn't going to allow herself to recall the story behind that one. Somethings were better left in the dark.
Forcing herself to regulate her breathing, she continued with her bathroom routine, reaching in turn for the conditioner and body wash, purposely avoiding any remnants of her past that were etched on her skin. It was time to finally put the past to bed.
Shutting off the water, she stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel to wrap around her body. Sitting on the cool tile floor, she began to towel dry her hair until it was nearly dry to the touch, before reaching for her bag that she had left by the door.
Pulling out her last clean pair of underwear and a light beige coloured cropped top, she once again donned her ripped black jeans, pulling on the top and sliding a grey kimono on over the top, that had large pale pink flowers entwined across the back. She decided, as she stood appraising herself in the mirror, that she seriously needed to bulk up her wardrobe.
Opening the door, Caoimhe headed out, leaving it ajar to allow the residual steam to dissipate.
Chibs was stood at the hob, watching over a bubbling pot and stirring it occasionally. He caught sight of Caoimhe as she approached the island and lifted herself onto one of the bar stools.
"It smells really good." She said, resting her chin in her palm as she leaned on the marble surface.
"Thank you, lass." He shrugged. "Just chili. Something easy so you can settle in."
She smiled. "That sounds really good."
"Well it's nearly ready. Do you wanna grab a bowl for the chips, girl, and then a couple for us as well."
"Sure." Caoimhe slipped from the stool and began to make her way around the kitchen opening various cupboards in search of the crockery. Eventually, she opened a cupboard about half way around and found small piles of white, rustic looking plates and bowls. Grabbing three down, she paused.
"Do you have any cheese?" she asked.
Chibs laughed, "'Course I do. You want some with this?"
"Yeah, if you don't mind."
"Not at all, lass." He nodded his head towards the fridge that sat at the end of one of the benches. "There's a fair selection in there. Have a rummage."
She nodded and reached up for a fourth bowl. Carrying them over to deposit them next to Chibs, She made her way to the fridge and opened it, assessing the contents. After a moment of consideration, she pulled out a block of strong mature English cheddar, holding it up for Chibs' approval.
"That looks good to me." He said, returning to the bubbling pot in front of him.
Testing a small mouthful on the tip of the wooden spoon, he decided that it was done. Turning the heat off from under the pot, he pulled over two of the bowls that Caoimhe had brought out. He began to serve the chili, glancing out of the corner of his eye to watch his daughter grate some of the cheese into a bowl.
He was honestly flabbergasted that she was even here. The heartbreak that had tailed him since the news of her supposed death almost ten years ago, had weighed him down to the point where he began to understand for the first time the reasoning behind JT's actions after his son had died not so long before.
The was a warmth in his chest that he had not felt in far too long a time, a wholeness that was beginning to fill the void in his chest left by his abrupt uprooting from his family. It went deeper than mere happiness, even beyond relief and overwhelming but optimistic disbelief at his daughter's reappearance from the dead. It was the feeling of finally being alive again.
Father and daughter could be found an hour or so later, passed out on the couch in front of the television that was quietly playing through a showing of Ferris Bueller's Day Off. The wreckage from their evening meal lay around them in the form of empty bowls and corn chip crumbs, and a half eaten bowl of popcorn.
Had anyone been looking in on the scene at that precise moment, it would have been impossible to tell that the two had been separated, comfortable as they were around each other in slumber.
An hour or so later, Chibs awoke. Looking over, he smiled gently at the sleeping form of his daughter.
Jesus Christ, he thought. I could say that all day. My daughter. She's finally come home to me.
With this thought prevalent in his mind, he eased himself off the couch and stooped to slide his arms under Caoimhe. He carried her through to his room, kicking the door open before him.
He laid her down on the bed and pulled the covers up around her, stroking his fingers gently through her hair before laying a kiss on her forehead.
She mumbled a little in reaction to this and snuggled herself deeper under the covers.
Chibs stood for a minute, looking on in a burst of fatherly love, before turning and padding his way softly out of the room.
As he reached the door, he turned back to pull it shut behind him and hovered again.
"Welcome home, baby," he whispered. "Welcome to the American Dream."