A/N: Uh, Merry Christmas ...


Twenty-Three

The Samcro president's dark eyes were hard as he stood in the clubhouse doorway and surveyed the scene in front of him, his fists clenched and his jaw tight.

"Motherfuckers," he muttered below his breath.

Across the yard, cars and bikes waiting for either repair or to be picked up by their owners now sat in worse shape than when they'd arrived – windows smashed, tyres slashed, paintwork scored. They'd all busted a gut to try to get on top of the backlog for nothing.

Worse than that though was the attack on the clubhouse itself. Bullet holes in windows and walls were something he never wanted to see on his watch, and yet there they were – haphazard rather than a concerted deadly effort, but still concrete proof of an attack on what should have been their stronghold.

He was fucking furious.

But, after everything they'd been through in recent years, the overriding emotion was still relief. No one was hurt. Not his men or their families, not the few club girls who had spent the night. Not Eden.

Chibs closed the door and turned back to the bar where dishevelled Sons downed whiskey shots and swore bloody vengeance and even more dishevelled croweaters, tumbled out of whatever beds they'd ended up in by the commotion and in little more than their underwear, huddled together miserably on battered couches.

He scanned the room, quickly finding his old lady perched on a bar stool in a Samcro t-shirt of his, her bed-tousled hair falling over one shoulder as she leaned her elbow on the bar and toyed with the tiny silver hoop halfway up her ear. Charlie was by her side like a guard dog – if that guard dog happened to be a damn labradoodle, the Scotsman snorted to himself. He couldn't fault the boy though. He had been the one to order him to stay with her and the prospect had done his duty. He was even, to his credit, managing to keep his eyes off her bare legs. At least while Chibs was watching.

He knew they were all waiting for him. For answers, for orders. But first things first.

Crossing the bar, he touched a hand to his old lady's head, leaning in for a kiss that was more about reassuring himself she was safe than about comforting her. "You okay, pet?"

Despite the worry in her tired eyes, she nodded and he set aside his duty as president to step up and address what had happened just a few seconds longer, pressing a kiss and then another to her lips before reluctantly pulling away.

Now he had to switch roles.

"Charlie, lad, take Eden home to her brother's place," he instructed, turning to the rest of his expectant brothers as soon as he'd been given an obedient "Yes, boss" from the young man.

"Hang on a minute," Eden protested, taken aback by her sudden and seemingly complete dismissal.

"Church," Chibs ordered the waiting Sons, pulling his cut on over his shirt and squaring his shoulders as he spoke. "Call Tig and the others – get 'em back here."

"Filip …"

"Lockdown?" Quinn asked.

"Not yet, but put everyone on notice. Lyla and Flick too. And-"

"Filip!"

Eden's frustration lifted her voice above everything else going on and an awkward hush fell over the clubhouse, the look her old man favoured her with not doing anything to make her feel less uneasy.

"I gotta handle this, lass," he said tightly. "Go with Charlie. Stay at Seth's and I'll-"

"Are you serious? I'm not going anywhere."

"Eden, I need to be able to know you're safe ..."

"But you can't just ask me to leave like-" she tried.

"I ain't asking. Now, do as you're told and let that be the end o' it."

Eden almost physically recoiled at his tone. It was a side to him she hadn't yet seen – stern, cold, authoritative. A far cry from his usual easy shows of affection, all warm smiles and casual caresses. Her instinct was to push back, challenge him. But something told her this wasn't the time or the place.

Not that it stopped her glaring at him in an icy stand-off just long enough to leave the rest of those gathered shifting uncomfortably.

"Give me five minutes to get dressed, Charlie," she said finally, addressing the prospect even though her sharp green eyes remained trained on her old man. "Unless you need to supervise that too."

With that, she turned on her heel and stormed off with as much dignity as could be expected while wearing nothing but a t-shirt.

"Uh, should I …?" Charlie asked, flushed and floundering as he remembered his orders not to leave her side and took half a step after her before realising that probably wasn't quite what his president had envisaged when he put him on minder duty.

"Not if you want to keep that fucking cut."


Having sat in stony silence in the passenger seat of the Sam's Yard pick-up truck – after a slight delay while a slashed tyre was changed - Eden finally turned to Charlie when he pulled up outside the apartment block where she lived with her brother.

"Are you supposed to come in or go back?"

"Uh, Chibs wants me back at the clubhouse. Probably to help with the clean-up."

"Oh, well, if that's what Chibs wants," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her bag and reached for the handle of the door.

"You shouldn't have challenged him like that," the prospect blurted out, almost regretting saying anything when she rounded on him. But despite how much he liked the pretty paramedic, his loyalty was still unquestionably to his president – and all the more so, given that Chibs had been the one to actually give him a chance. "Not in the clubhouse. Not in front of everyone."

"Listen, Charlie, I know you have to jump when anyone snaps their fingers, but I'm not a damn prospect!" Eden started hotly.

"No, you're an old lady," he shrugged, like that explained it all.

"So, what? I have to act like a 1950s housewife? Be the good little woman, speak only when I'm spoken to? I didn't realise you big, bad bikers were so fucking precious! Oh, go home, Charlie – maybe you'll get a pat on the head."

Exasperated and hardening her heart against the fact the young man looked like she'd just shot his puppy in front of him, Eden clambered out of the truck and slammed the door, still fuming as she let herself into the quiet apartment and sank down on the couch. There was a slight tremor in the hand she held out to judge how much the night's events had rattled her and she clenched her fingers tightly to make it go away.

"Another row with Chibs?"

Her hand flew to her heart as she choked down a little shriek of alarm, startled by the stealthy appearance of her brother.

"Jesus, Seth, you scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry," he managed, around a cavernous yawn. "Figured if you were rocking up at this time of night, someone might need a beat-down …"

"Oh, don't you start!" she snapped. "I swear I'm going to punch the next person hellbent on treating me like a fucking five-year-old!"

"Hey, hey, simmer down there, Rocky," Seth said, eyes now wide and his hands raised in surrender. "I did not teach you how to throw a right hook just to end up on the receiving end. Now, come on, tell me what's happened so I can decide whose side I'm on."

She snorted at that. "You're always on my side."

"Mmm, usually," he said, sprawling out beside her on the couch and kicking his bare feet up on the coffee table. "But Chibs ain't as big a prick as your usual type … Ow!"

Despite having just punched him in the arm, Eden relented enough to let him throw said arm around her and pull her into his side, laying her head on his shoulder. "Don't overreact," she warned. "Someone … kinda shot up the clubhouse."

"WHAT?!"

"I said not to overreact," she sighed, slumping back against the cushions when he abandoned her in favour of jumping up to pace the floor.

"That fucking Scottish prick …"


"When I said I'd only kick your ass for the big shit, that wasn't carte blanche to piss off my little sister – and don't even fucking start me on having her dodging bullets in the middle of the night."

"There was no dodging anything," Chibs sighed, leaning wearily against the wall outside Seth's apartment. "She was in bed wi' me when it happened."

"Not helping your case. You know who was behind it?" Seth asked, those huge arms folded across his chest, showing no sign of moving aside to let him in.

"Got a fair idea," Chibs shrugged, not prepared to disclose anything to a non-patch. Not yet anyway. "Look, man, it's been a long fucking night …"

In fact, he'd barely slept, between an emergency session around the table and a few hours largely spent staring towards the ceiling in the darkness, acutely aware of how empty his bed felt.

He'd reached for his phone more than once in the early hours, only to grit his teeth and set it back down before he could give in to the urge to call or text. No fucking way was he apologising for trying to keep his old lady safe. No matter how pissed off she was.

"You here to apologise?"

The biker levelled a flat stare at the boxer. "No."

Seth seemed to take a moment to process that and then snorted, turning to grab his kit bag from just inside the door and holding it open to let Chibs in. "Your funeral," he said. "I gotta get to the gym. For what it's worth, I did try telling her that protecting her ain't exactly a hanging offence in my book."

"I appreciate that."

"And I'd appreciate it if you'd stop pissing off my sister."

"It ain't for lack o' fucking trying," Chibs muttered, as he headed inside to face the music.


Sat at the breakfast bar, a lit cigarette between his fingers, the biker watched as Eden set about making coffee in baggy sweatpants that sat low on her hips and a cropped t-shirt, the waves of her hair held back from her face with a wide fabric band. He felt like he hadn't slept in days and she still looked as fucking fresh-faced as ever. That and the stony silence between them rankled at him. He'd rather just have a blazing row and damn well get it over with in favour of the inevitable fiery make-up sex.

"Never had you pegged as a brat ..."

Eden stopped in her tracks and then rounded on him furiously. Yup, that'd do it for the blazing row, although he was less sure about the make-up sex. Fiery or otherwise.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" she demanded, but he simply shrugged in the face of her anger.

"Sulking 'cause you didn't get your own way. What would you call it?"

"You've got some damn nerve, Filip Telford," she seethed, banging down a cup of coffee in front of him. "I might be younger than you, but you can't have it both ways – fucking me one minute and then sending me away like a child the next!"

"Keeping you safe is fuck all to do wi' age," he shot back, jabbing his cigarette in her direction to make his point. "Unlike you disrespecting me in front o' everyone. How the hell do you think that looks, huh? Mother charter president can't even keep his own old lady in line …"

"In line-"

"Oh, don't start some feminist bullshit when you know damn well what I mean. I ain't after some cowed little woman tied to the fucking kitchen sink. Eden, you're smart, independent, you know your own mind – that's sexy as hell. You got a job, a life beyond … us, and I'm glad o' that too. But when it comes to the club, it's gotta be my way or nothin'. And I ain't gonna apologise for that," Chibs insisted, stubbing out his smoke as he spoke and getting up to round the counter, boxing her in, even as she crossed her arms over her chest defensively and refused to look him in the eye.

But he still reached out to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, softening just a little in his still firm approach. "I love you," he said, letting his hands settle on the bare skin above the low waistband of her sweatpants. "Can't lie, I've already tried kidding mesel' I just love getting me dick in a proper wee stunner the lads keep reminding me should be well out o' my league. But it ain't that. Well, it ain't just that. I love you in a way that means I can't fucking breathe at the thought o' someone taking you from me. So I ain't ever gonna stop trying to keep you safe, lass – even if you bloody hate me for it."

Eden dared a look into his brown eyes and almost wished she hadn't, seeing everything he had already lost reflected there, making her own heart ache.

"Filip …"

"You've already had one manipulative bastard in your life," he ploughed on. "I ain't gonna make my past an excuse for how I treat you. But I ain't gonna make promises I can't keep either – I can't tell you I'll change, because I know this is how it has to be."

"But you shutting me out …" Eden whispered, letting her hands rest on his well-worn cut, her fingers grazing over the president's patch that she knew might as well be seared in flesh instead of leather. "I … I don't think I know how to get right with that."

A rueful look crossed Chibs' scarred face, his own fingers still softly caressing her skin. "We shoulda had this talk before now," he said quietly. "Before we got in too deep."

"What are you saying?" she asked quietly, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Filip?"

"Maybe … Maybe I can't be what you need," he admitted, hating himself for being the cause of the hurt in her eyes. "You deserve better."

"Don't," she tried. "Don't say that."

"Oh, sweetheart," the biker sighed, brushing a tear from beneath her long lashes and then tilting her face back up to his for a kiss he didn't want to break.

"If you don't want me …"

"It ain't that simple and you know it. Jesus, Eden, what was I thinking dragging you into this life? I look around and all I see are ghosts – couples torn apart or following each other into the grave, so much fucking grief. Jax and Tara, Opie and Donna, Otto and Luann, Clay and Gemma …"

"But you're trying to make things right," Eden said. "To get the club back on a better path, like Jax wanted, like his dad wanted."

"Can't do it overnight, pet," he said, his hand cupping her cheek. "Wish I could. Can't promise I can do it at all. And you deserve so much more than hanging around waiting for the next shitstorm to blow over. Happiness, security, the whole damn picket fence deal – two-point-four kids and a dog."

"I don't want that – I just want you," she managed tearfully, kissing him desperately. "Please, Filip, I'm sorry. I'll try harder, I won't-"

But Chibs cut her off, shushing away her efforts to make it right and kissing her back as he held her close. "None o' that, you hear me? You got nothing to apologise for and don't you ever go changing. Because you, my gorgeous girl, are incredible just as you are."

He was trying to do the right thing, but he was only fucking human and, as was so often the case, it was harder than he'd imagined to walk the fine line between comfort and something else. Later, when he had time to process what had happened, he'd realise just how powerless he had been to resist giving in to her tearful encouragement. Soft, tender kisses full of regret had turned urgent and he'd found himself lifting her up onto the edge of the counter, her hands gripping his shoulders as they ended up throwing caution to the wind and making love one last time.

Chibs buried his face against her neck when he finally came inside her, pressing kisses to her skin, each one his wordless attempt at saying everything he didn't have the words for.

"I love you," Eden whispered, tears slipping down her own cheeks as he fought to pull himself together and then gently eased them apart.

"I know," he said, his voice thick with emotion, straightening his clothes and then lifting her down to do the same before stealing one final lingering kiss. "And I never wanna see that turn to hate. It's better this way."

"Filip …"

"Goodbye, darlin'. Take care o' yersel'."

It was only when the door closed behind him that a hand flew to Eden's mouth and the stunned young woman took a shuddering deep breath and fully crumpled into heartbroken tears.

It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.