A/N: Something a bit more deep and meaningful after last time - and a little speeding up of the timeline, 'cause wow, next part will be number twenty! Thanks to those still reading. Your thoughts are always welcome. Oh, and just in case anyone missed the previous note, the detail of my version of Chibs' backstory can be found in my previously published story Scars. Tx


Nineteen

Jackson Nathanial Teller. Devoted husband and father, beloved son.

That and the dates of his birth and death were all that marked the former Samcro president's humble grave. No black marble, no reaper, no reference to the legacy of his club – a club that had made him what he was and then turned its back on him.

Beloved son.

That had been Chibs' doing. His only way to nod to the tribute the young man should have had, hidden in plain sight. Anything more would have incurred the wrath of Packer and the other presidents and they'd been on shaky enough ground already, all things considered. He still agonised over it though, this one last thing he could do for the brother he loved so dearly.

Should he go further, risk rocking the proverbial club boat and be damned? Would Jax even want those words, whatever meaning you chose to take from them, especially given the shattered ruins of the Teller-Morrow legacy? It felt right though. He couldn't risk using brother, despite the technical truth, given the existence – however tragically cut short – of JT and Gemma's youngest son and, he supposed, of JT's no-longer-secret daughter. But Chibs had often looked on Jax as a son. So, in his mind, that word on his grave would serve to represent their bond.

One year on, it was that word his fingers traced as he crouched, head bowed, by the secluded plot.

Son.

"It was never meant to end like this, Jacky," Chibs sighed softly. "Rest well, my boy."

They'd lost so much in recent years. Too much. It would have seemed surreal had every hellish moment not been etched indelibly on his mind, making his heart ache just to think of it. So many hearts broken, families torn apart. So many people just gone, ripped out of his life.

Bobby. How the fuck was Bobby gone? Bobby, the one everyone looked to for wisdom and weed, sing-songs and homemade brownies. Bobby, who balanced the books and the peace.

And Opie. Jesus, Opie – following his first wife into the grave and leaving another to pick up the pieces of their children's shattered lives. It was tragically close to his best friend's own eventual path, reunited in death with his childhood love and leaving his ex-wife to tend to their kids.

He could hardly even bear to think of Tara, such was the brutality of her death, only made all the more sickening for the dark truth of how it had played out. No wonder Jax had been destroyed by it.

And he had. The loss of his love at the hands of his once precious mother, the woman who had been a maternal figure to them all … He was never going to be able to make that right. And, from what Nero had reluctantly disclosed, he had known that all along. That pulling the trigger to deliver the only justice he knew was to sign his own death warrant.

In that respect, admitting to killing Jury had only ever been a technicality. It may have been what sent Packer and the others after him in the end, but Jax had never expected to carry on – mayhem vote or not.

Chibs knew that now.

Crossing himself, he stood and turned to glance back to where he'd parked up his bike.

He was so tired of standing in graveyards, here and in Belfast – the heartache wearying him in a way age alone never could. How much could one man be asked to bear before it broke him completely?

He realised the sight of the girl waiting patiently for him did actually ease the pain in his heart just a little though. Enough to let him square his shoulders against the world and carry on.

Neither of them had put a label on what they had yet, but it was definitely something. Anyone with eyes could see that. And days had soon turned into weeks, months even, letting them fall into some kind of routine. If you could call it that, given the unpredictability of both their circumstances.

She probably wasn't cut out for being caught up in the life. She deserved better than anything he could offer.

Better than a married man with a wife on the other side of the world who didn't seem to want him, but wouldn't let him go either, and a teenage daughter he adored, but rarely saw. Better than the leader of a bunch of criminals who seemed to end up hurting everyone close to them whether they meant to or not.

She wasn't his old lady, couldn't be his wife … But she was here with him in a graveyard at first light, straight off a night shift, and the thought of having her ripped from him too made his blood run cold. He knew he'd kill anyone who tried.

With his bare hands if he had to.

Seeing her start walking towards him, he tried to push such dark thoughts from his mind, grazing his lips over hers when she stepped into his arms. Her hands rested on his cut, her fingers tracing the president patch lightly as she looked up at him.

"He'd be proud of you," Eden told him softly.

Chibs managed a sad smile at that. "I hope you're right, lass. I hope you're right."


He felt like he could tell her anything and he wasn't exactly the over-sharing type. Oh, he might wear his heart on his sleeve at times, but he was well used to keeping dark secrets deeply hidden too. And to putting on a brave, brash face when it was called for.

In her arms though, all that just seemed to slip away.

Club business, that was still locked up tight. But everything else …

"Aren't the guys gonna wonder where you are?"

"I'm the boss – let 'em wonder," Chibs shrugged, letting his fingertips trail lightly down Eden's bare back as she lay in his inked arms in the sanctuary of her bed. "Besides, all these night shifts you've been pulling, gotta steal time wi' my girl when I can."

She smiled at that, letting her green eyes drift closed, definitely in danger of falling asleep on his chest again and he realised these were the moments he was coming to really savour. When it could be just the two of them. And it wasn't just about the sex, incredible as it was. It was in those quiet, often stolen moments that they'd really been getting to know each other. Parts of their lives as intimate as the acts that drew them to each other's beds.

"Talk to me," she murmured, practically purring like a kitten as he lazily stroked the tangled waves of her hair.

"One o' us should be getting back to work," Chibs said. "And one o' us …" He broke off to press a soft kiss to her head. "… should be getting some sleep."

"I like listening to you. Tell me more about Ireland," Eden said softly, reaching up to trace his scarred cheeks. "How you got these."

Chibs took her hand in his and kissed her fingertips as he considered that. He'd known it was coming, having already ended up inadvertently spilling just enough for her to know there was some serious trauma at the centre of that particular chapter of his chaotic life. And, while it wasn't about owing each other, she had already trusted him with a lot – even beyond the stalling of her career, the whole nightmare surrounding that and her so-called fiancé bailing on her.

They'd been sprawled comfortably in his bed at the clubhouse, the noise out by the bar seeming to fade away, when he'd asked a seemingly innocuous question about why she'd wanted to become a paramedic in the first place. The answer was more than he'd bargained for, her determination to be able to help others stemming largely from her own father's death. In the boxing ring in front of his wife and then young children.

She knew what it was to lose someone.

"It ain't a happy story, love," he warned, but by his words, they both knew that it was one he was finally going to share and Eden let a comforting hand rest over his heart as she curled closer.

"Tell me," she whispered.

So he did.


With the now late morning sun streaming through the window, he told her everything. Capturing the grim times spent on the tough streets of Belfast, the comfort he'd found in Aoife, the horror of her fate, and the years he'd spent not knowing and having to look her brother Jimmy O in the face after he'd exiled him, broken and bloodied. And by the end of it, tears stained both their cheeks.

"Ah, pet," Chibs sighed, on realising that. "I didn't want to upset you …"

"I just hate to think of you hurting like that," Eden managed tearfully. "And that poor, poor girl. How could her own brother …? Jesus, Filip, I'm so sorry."

"I know, and I love you for it, my darlin'," he said roughly, holding her close with one arm as he dashed tears away with the other, neither of them really registering the words in that moment.

"The not knowing … I can't even imagine … When did you find out for sure?"

"They only found her body a couple o' years ago. Was all over the news 'cause o' who Jimmy was. There's something else you should know, Eden," he added, unsure how she would react, but wanting her to know the whole truth of his blood-soaked past. She'd earned that. "Aoife … They say she was pregnant."

He knew by the way her eyes closed at that revelation that he didn't have to spell it out for her, but she only wrapped her arms tighter around him.

"Oh, Filip," she said softly. "Honey, I'm so, so sorry."

"I had no idea," he managed. "Don't think she did either. She'd have told me. Ain't gonna lie, hearing that fucked my head up for a while."

"I'd be more worried if it didn't," Eden said. "I hate that you've gone through something so terrible, but I am glad you felt you could tell me."

"I don't deserve you," he sighed, making her shake her head.

"Don't say that," she said, about to say something more when she trailed off unsurely. "Did you …? Uh, you know what? Never mind."

"Eden? What is it?" Chibs prompted, as she sat up wrapped in the sheets.

"Did you just say you … love me?" came the hesitant question, one that left him staring at her until she seemed to realise exactly what she'd just asked and quickly tried to backtrack. "Shit, sorry – probably just the heat of the moment. I know it's probably too soon and after everything you just told me … Oh god, could I be any more insensitive? I'm sorry. Please forget I said anything and-"

"Hey," the biker said softly, as she buried her face in her hands and he reached to pull her back into his arms, having replayed the conversation in his head and realised both exactly what he'd said and the truth of it. "I can't deny this life has cut me deep, darlin'. But we all need more than ghosts to hold onto. You don't gotta apologise, you hear me? Jesus, Eden, you here wi' me like this … You're the best thing that's happened to me in a hell o' a long time. So aye, I might be punching above my weight here, darlin', but I reckon I do love you."

Fresh unshed tears shone in her eyes as he tilted her lips up to his for a tender kiss.

"I love you too."