"Have ya talked ta yer sester at all?" Sorcha looked up from her book. Her father still wouldn't allow her to work on any of the cars, but he didn't have a problem with her sitting in the garage while the men worked. She'd been home a week and a half, which was more than enough time to hear the news that she hadn't been the only one to visit Chibs during his stint in St. Thomas.
"You honestly think that betch es gonna let me corrupt her daughter?"
"Nah," he conceded as he slid the dipstick back into place on the '94 Chevy he was working on. "But et'd be nice ta gev 'er a proper role model."
"Believe me, Da, I'd love nothin' more than ta pull Carrie Ann awa from the cunt 'n gev 'er a proper home... 'N don't even get me star'ed on the pervert she's married to now." Two daughters from two mothers, and they were like night and day to look at them. While Sorcha was pale-skinned with deep auburn hair, Carrie Ann was dark-headed and had a more olive tint to her skin. Though born and raised in Northern Ireland, Carrie Ann's mother Fiona was Indian by blood; Sorcha's mother had been from a family so Irish their veins carried whiskey. He couldn't deny that his familiarity with her had sparked his interest, but with Fiona it had been one mistake after the other. First was when he cheated on his wife with her-one night of drunk sex with a woman he'd known from home-and getting her pregnant had been the worst part. It hadn't come out until after the attack that Carrie Ann was his, so the only person he'd had to explain himself to was Sorcha . . . and that hadn't made him as ashamed about his actions as he should have been. Maybe if his infidelity had surfaced earlier, things would have happened differently.
Chibs hadn't found out how ruthless Fiona was until it was too late, and she'd already conned him into marrying her. The attack on his family hadn't been a coincidence. And Chibs's loyalty to his first wife and daughter held precedence over the wife who'd sanctioned the attack as a means of worming her way into his life. Poor Carrie Ann had been caught in the crossfire. It was obvious that the dark-haired young girl loved her father and sister; she'd been almost seven when they found out exactly what happened. Chibs had told Fiona exactly how long she had to get out of Charming before he killed her. All Carrie Ann understood at the time was that she and her mother were leaving, and they weren't coming back. Seventeen-year-old Sorcha had clung to her little sister. It broke her heart to have to give her up, but she was more afraid of what Fiona could do. In the end, Chibs held his older daughter as he watched his God-forsaken wife drive away with his other little girl.
"She what?" Chibs couldn't believe what he was hearing Gemma say.
"She paid for it. She had you in her sights and wanted you all to herself."
"So she paid ta have m' wife kelled 'n m' daughter chain raped?"
"I'm so sorry, Honey." There were advantages to having connections to a porn star who bought heroin from a Mayan. One of Luann's co-stars had overheard her dealer talking about an Indian Irish woman who'd paid him to set up a meeting between her and some of his club members, how it was the worst deal he ever did because seven of his buddies ended up dead. He hadn't even known what it was about at the time. But that bitch had scared the shit out of him.
"I was thinking about going to see Otto," she voiced as Chibs dropped the hood of the car closed.
"He can't see you," Chibs mentioned. She raised an irritated eyebrow to his back. He didn't need to see it to know it had happened. "But I think he'd like that." Turning around, he pulled the rag from his back pocket and wiped off his hands. "Ya should probably see Abel too."
"Yeah," she admitted. "There's a lot 'a people I need ta see."
"Looks jest like hes Da . . . personality like 'im too."
"Why does that no' surprise me?" she smiled. "I'm gonna head over there after I stop at Opie's." She jumped down from the tool bench she was sitting on, eliciting a metallic rattle that echoed through the garage.
"Ya want a ride?" he asked. "I could tak lunch early."
"Nah," she replied, placing her bookmark and closing the book. "Et's nice out; I can walk."
"Ya sure?" she was getting to the point where she was spending more time with Jax and Juice than she was with him, and as silly as it sounded, he was starting to get a little jealous. He'd missed his baby girl when she didn't come home from school.
"I'm sure, Da." She wrapped her arms around his waist and set her head against his chest. "I was thinkin' 'bout offerin' ta watch Ellie 'n Kenny en tha afternoons."
"I think that's a great idea," he shot back, nodding his assent. "I know Ope's been hurtin' sence Mary left."
"Es 'is new girl takin' over the producin' part now that Luann's gone?"
"Yep; she's hurtin' fer childcare now too."
"Well, shet; I could jest get a license 'n open up a club center," she laughed. He chuckled back at her and kissed her on the head.
"Ef et gets ta be after dark, you call me ta come get ya."
"Aye, Sir," she returned with a facetious salute and headed to put her book away.
As much as Clay hadn't liked it, Caracara had been one of the most steady sources of income the club had ever known. So when things settled down a bit after dealing with Ethan Zobelle, and they'd safely recovered Abel from the Irish asshole who'd taken him, Clay had approved the rebuilding of the company. Lyla stood in the warehouse, looking over the final inventory. They were finally able to start shooting again. In the morning, the camera crews and cast would come in and get to work, and she would make her debut as a producer instead of a star. She was more than ready to give up being in front of the camera. Now that she had Opie, she had a reason to respect herself. This month would also be nearly half a year sober from the drugs. It had taken almost that long just to get everything together. Samcro had been hurting for money bad. If the other charters hadn't stepped up and loaned Charming some money, they might not have made it through the past couple of months. As it was, they were having club hang-arounds watch the kids while they both worked, and while Lyla was not really in any position to talk, she didn't like the idea of it. Yes, she'd been a porn star, but she'd also always made sure that Piper stayed out of it as much as possible. There was no reason he had to be mixed up in her job. But once they got fully up and running again, they'd be able to pay for proper child care. Though, admittedly, by the time that happened, Ellie might be old enough to watch the boys after school. For now, they would just have to play things by ear and keep doing the best they could... like they always did.
Sorcha didn't expect the kids to answer the door. "Oy," she called, surprising them. "God, you guys got big!"
"Aunt Sorcha!" Ellie called, pushing open the screen door and running into the redhead's waiting embrace.
"Hey, Kiddo," she smiled. Kenny followed suite, and Sorcha held them like she would never see them again.
"Aunt Sorcha," Kenny cried from her shoulder, "you're squishing me!" Chuckling, she let them go.
"Where's yer da?"
"Out back," Ellie answered.
"I'm gonna go talk ta hem fer a bet, okay?" They both nodded, looking slightly disappointed, and began heading back to the television show they'd been watching. Before he'd gotten five steps away, the young boy stopped and turned back around.
"Aunt Sorcha, are you going away again?" Kenny dared with a furrowed brow.
"No, Love; I'm home fer good thes time." He looked somewhat relieved and ran back into the living room to join his sister on the couch. Sorcha headed through the house and out the back door. She found Opie sitting at the patio table. Without asking his permission, she pulled out a second chair and sat down. "What's 'er name?"
"What?" Opie looked at her, startled and confused.
"Yer conflicted, Ope. And et's about a woman." She pulled a knee up to her chest.
"It's not a woman."
"Gev me a little credit, Harold Piermont. I know ya better'n ya think I do. 'N the only other time I've ever seen that look on yer face 'as when ya wanted ta ask Donna on a date." He closed his eyes against the painful memory. Lyla was a godsend, but he still thought about the mother of his children more than he felt was fair to his new significant other. "It's natural," Sorcha continued. "Ya loved 'er, Ope; weth everythin' ya had in ya. Et's the only way ya know how ta love. 'N ya'll never quite find that again." She paused as he finally looked her in the eye. "But no one expects ya to. Ya have two kids in there that are a part of her. And yer defilin' her mem'ry by fergettin' that."
"What would you know about it?" he flared at her.
"Seein' as how I lost m' ma 'n was raised by a father in a bike club, quite a bet," she fired back. He sighed; she had him there. "Ope, no one's askin' ya ta do et alone."
"But I am alone." She stood up and walked around behind him, wrapping her arms around him and setting her chin on his shoulder.
"No, yer not."
"And what happens when you go back to school?"
"Not goin' back," she answered succinctly. "I belong here." He reached up and laid a hand on her embrace.
"I'm just not sure what to do anymore. Lyla's great, but I don't know if what we're doing is fair to her."
"Yer never gonna find another woman like Donna," Sorcha stated, "unless ya do right by the lit'le girl ya got in that house. D'ya remember what I always used ta say about m' ma?"
"You mean that movie quote?"
She nodded and recited, "Ef the people we love are stolen from us, the way ta have them lev on es ta never stop lovin' them. Buildings burn, people die..."
"But real love is forever," he finished with her, acquiescing to her wisdom on the subject.
"I'm not sayin' gev up on Lyla. Jest find some time fer yer kids too, huh, Dearthair?" Grudgingly, he nodded. She was the one person still alive that he couldn't hide from. No excuse he could come up with or escape he could devise would ever work with her. She'd been in exactly Ellie's shoes. And when he thought about it, if losing Donna meant Ellie could grow up to be just like Sorcha, it made life without his wife seem just a little bit more bearable. "Now that we got that out 'a the way," Sorcha continued, "what d'ya think about me watchin' the kids after they get out 'a school while you 'n Lyla're at work?"
His heart leaped. He knew there was a reason he loved this girl. "We couldn't pay you," he put in hesitantly.
"Ded it sound like I asked fer pay?" she countered. "I'm jest bored. Da won't let me help at the garage, so I got nothin' else ta do."
"It would really help us, Spitfire."
"Good," she replied. "I'll start pickin' 'em up on Monday." She kissed his cheek and released him. "Love you, Ogre."
"Love you too, Pixie."
"Oh, by the way," she called over her shoulder as she headed back into the house. "They fecked up yer tattoo!" He chuckled to himself watching the door slide shut.
Opie displayed his new ink proudly, and everyone admired it. "That's really cool!"s and "Awesome!"s abounded... at least, until Sorcha saw it. "They fecked it up," was her response.
"No they didn't," he countered, confused.
"Yeah they did," she insisted. "Either that or you did."
"What are you talking about, Spitfire?"
"The poem goes: 'The center cannot hold, mere anarchy is loosed upon the world."
"That was too long to fit on my neck."
"I don't care. Et's stell wrong."
"Well then, you're just gonna have to deal with it, 'cause now it's permanent." He wrapped an arm gently around her neck and pulled her in for an embrace. He pulled tighter as she fought to get away from him.
"Ugh! Lemme go, you smell!"
Jax came to her rescue, pulling her out from under the burly man's arms. "She's right, ya know," he commented, setting Sorcha free and making sure she was steady on her feet.
"I changed it on purpose!" He raised his voice a bit, now getting a little irritated.
"No, I mean, you do smell," Jax shot back with a smile, causing Opie to chuckle in spite of himself.
There was plenty of daylight left as Sorcha said goodbye to Kenny and Ellie and headed for Jax's house. Jax and Tara were both at work, but Gemma was there watching Abel. The biker queen greeted Sorcha as though she and the younger girl shared blood; a warm embrace and a kiss on the mouth met Sorcha at the door. "I had some time, so I figured I'd come see the pipsqueak," she smiled.
"Absolutely," Gemma beamed back. "Come on in, Baby," the older woman closed the door behind them and lead Sorcha back to the little boy's room. Abel peaked up over the edge of his crib, cooing at the women as they entered.
"God, look at ya!" Sorcha exclaimed, lifting him into her arms. "How'd you get so big, huh?" He burbled an indistinct answer and smiled widely. Gemma smiled as she watched Sorcha play with her grandson.
"We'll never be able to thank you enough Spitfire."
"For what?" The redhead's brow furrowed in confusion.
"For him."
Across the diner, Sorcha thought she recognized a man sitting at the counter. She approached him cautiously, finding that she was correct in her assumption. "Cameron?" Her father had introduced her to him months before, the last time she'd been home. He was a member of the True IRA and dealt guns to SAMCRO. What was he doing this far north?
"Sorcha," he replied, confirming that he recognized her as well. He looked exhausted and ragged.
"Where's Edmond?" she questioned, surprised to see the man without his son. Cameron sucked in a breath and looked as though he might cry. Sorcha understood immediately.
"Oh, Cameron," she soothed, wrapping her arms around the man. He accepted the embrace, ironic though it was. This girl obviously wasn't aware of everything that had happened in the past couple of days. He remembered that Chibs had mentioned her only checking in with him every few months. So for now, he allowed her to comfort him, sure that she hadn't been part of the events leading to his son's death. As she leaned over him, she caught sight of a baby in a car seat. There was a blanket covering him, but it slid down as the child squirmed, revealing the edge of a reaper decal on his onsie. Abel. What have you done, Cameron? Standing back up straight, she gave no indication that she'd seen the child, let alone recognized him. "Are you hanging in there?" she asked. He took a ragged breath, and as he let it out, the child began to cry. Cameraon winced and bent down to lift him up. Sorcha laid a hand on his back to stop him and picked the baby up for him, keeping the blanket securely over him and cradling him on her shoulder. She rocked him back to slumber and sat down next to Cameron. "Leave it to Eamon to bring the baby over and leave the mother at home, huh?" she commented as though assuming the child was Edmond's now left to Cameron because he was dead. She hoped that using the Irish version of the man's name would help to put Cameron at ease.
"Ma died," Cameron returned simply. "Car bomb in Belfast about two months ago."
"Oh, yer kiddin'," she gasped as realistically as possible. He was giving quite a decent performance. If she didn't know better, she might actually believe this was his real grandson.
"I should let you get back ta yer friends," he said, somewhat hesitantly.
"Don't worry about et," she shot back. "They'll never know I'm gone."
"Well, I've got ta go ta the bathroom anyway." He held his arms out to receive the baby, but Sorcha wasn't giving him back.
"I don't mind," she responded innocently. "Go ahead; we'll be right here." He hesitated for a long moment, but eventually his bladder got the better of him, and he headed to the men's room. As soon as she was sure he was gone, she pulled her phone from her pocket and quickly sent a text to East Coast. "At Brown's Point on East Side Dr. Have Jax's son. Need back up quietly." She slid the phone back into her pocket after the message went through and knew it was only a matter of time before Sons started showing up. She just hoped they took her advice and didn't make a scene, otherwise she and Abel might get hurt.
"Anyone else would'a done the same," Sorcha replied.
"But no one else would have been able to pull it off," Gemma insisted.
"I'm sure Tara could have." Sorcha bounced Abel, making him giggle again.
"Tara's the one who got him lost in the first place."
"That's no' fair. If Cameron'd shot her, there'd 'a been no gettin' Abel back, and we'd be buryin' two more people." Despite her bitterness, Gemma knew the young woman was right. She hoped against hope that someday Sorcha would be the Queen, or would at least help Tara be one. Being raised among the group gave Sorcha a distinct advantage when it came to diplomacy. Rules were as natural to her as breathing; they didn't need to be learned because they'd been ingrained in her from the day she was old enough to understand. She didn't question them the way Tara sometimes did. She also knew the men better than any woman before her, knew exactly what to say to get them to act or stay out of a fight, knew exactly how they would react to situations. She could be a very powerful young woman if she chose to wield it. If she truly stayed this time, as she claimed she would, she might even be able to begin teaching all the young girls of the club. Then maybe they wouldn't have the lack of Old Ladies that currently existed. After Bobby's wife divorced him and Luann was killed, they were down to Gemma, Tara, and Opie's new girlfriend Lyla. The rest of the women who hung around the Sons were sweetbutts, who weren't exactly worthy of the club's respect.
"I wish some of the guys had your head sometimes," Gemma mused. "Don't ever leave okay, Baby? They're gonna need you someday."
"Well, long as Juice stays active, don't plan on goin' anywhere," Sorcha shrugged back. Gemma's face lit up.
"You and Juice are back together?"
"Long as he can keep 'is cock in 'is pants with ev'ryone but me," she smiled.
"That's great, Baby." She pulled the younger woman into an embrace. "I'm really happy for you."
As Gemma let her go, Sorcha sighed. "I should get goin' 'fore et gets too dark out."
"Alright. You be careful, Baby."
"Always am."
This was definitely Kara's forte. As the two girls entered the house, the blond let out an excited whoop. Sorcha's eyes scanned the room, finding her exits. Her right leg tensed, feeling the thin knife she'd slipped into her boot shaft before leaving. The redhead followed her roommate closely as the other girl made her way into the heart of the crowd. They stopped next to a table of people playing beer pong. Sorcha knew the game well, though she never played herself; it was a waste of time in her eyes. She'd grown up around people who played pool and darts while they got drunk. One didn't need a game to get drunk. But she could still see how it might be a fun social interaction for the age group she was now among. "I'm gonna go get us some beers," Kara shouted over the din. "Stay right here so I don't lose you." Sorcha nodded, keeping her eyes on the game.
She had almost figured out the house rules by the time the blond returned with a red plastic cup in each hand. Kara handed her a cup and took a long drink from her own. After a sip, Sorcha sniffed the contents and asked,"What es thes?"
"Beer," Kara responded kurtly.
"What kind?"
"From a keg," Kara smarted back. "Does it matter?" Sorcha thought the beer tasted funny, but then it was fairly thin as well. Maybe it was just a really cheap brand. It had been a while since she'd drunk anything less than a Sam Adams. It was probably best to stop complaining and just let Kara have her fun for the night.
The sun was beginning to set, washing the street before her in a coral-colored took her time; she was in no hurry to get back to the clubhouse. It would probably be another few weeks before she moved out. It was still yet to be decided as to who she would live with. Tara still technically owned the house that had belonged to her parents, so there was always the possiblity of renting that. But whether it would be with her father, or actually starting a life with Juice was no where near set in stone. there was still the necessary task of collecting her things from the dorm room she shared with Kara as well. Sorcha was not looking forward to that at all. Taking some of the guys with her to help would ensure fewer questions from the curious blond, but she would not escape them entirely. And she certainly wasn't looking forward to setting foot in Tacoma again.
She wished there was a way to put things on hold, but in the coming week she would need to withdraw from school so that in the fall she could transfer down to a school closer to home or maybe even finish her classes online. There was a lot to think about in a short amount of time. She only knew for sure that she didn't want to leave again... didn't want to be in the same city as he was anymore. She trusted the Tacoma boys and would miss them dearly, but her nerves just couldn't handle it. Besides, she would still see them at the various events they participated in throughout the year, and she was certain that Clay would have no problems with them visiting from time to time. A group of engines roared up from behind her, slowing down as they approached. She hoped it was some of her own boys, but there would be no such luck tonight.
"Ey, Mami!" a Spanish-accented voice called out. "Where you goin'? Everything you need is right here!" Heaving a sigh, she turned to face him, allowing her right arm to dangle and nonchalantly show off her tattoo.
"Actually, everythin' I need's back at the SAMCRO house runnin' numbers on shepments."
One of the Mayans froze. "Madre de Dios. Come on, Pedro; you don't want none 'a that."
"Why the hell not?" Pedro responded. "Looks good to me." She cringed as his eyes roved up and down her body, but she refused to show it.
"That's the one they call 'Spitfire.' The last time somebody messed with that pale rider, Hell followed." She met the gaze of the man speaking and dipped her chin. "It'd be best if you found an escort home, Chica." Without a word, she pulled her phone from her pocket. The first three numbers she tried proved fruitless. She wasn't about to leave a voicemail message; there wasn't time for that. Finally, she grudgingly thumbed through her contacts and hit the send button. On the third ring, a male voice answered.
"You busy?" she asked hesitantly.
"Not if you need something."
"I'm about four blocks from Jax's place. Three Mayans are tellin' me ta get a ride."
"Stay put; be there in ten." The phone clicked off, and she replaced it to her pocket.
"He said ten minutes. Happy now?"
"We'll wait with ya," the Mayan more commanded than offered. "Somethin' happens, we don't want it blamed on us." She sighed heavily, knowing that they wouldn't budge no matter what she said. True to his word, ten minutes later a fourth bike joined the pack.
"Alright, get the fuck outta here," he yelled at the rival club three pulled away, satisfied that they wouldn't have another shit storm come down on their club because of this girl. His demeanor softened a bit as he turned to her. "You okay, Spitfire?" She nodded, still trying to convince herself that she wasn't riled at being surrounded by three Mayans with nothing but her tattoo and a veiled threat for protection. "Come on." He motioned to his "bitch" seat.
She'd forgotten how solid her solid her Uncle Tig felt; she hadn't ridden with him since she'd gotten her tattoo. She settled herself on the seat and relaxed against him. Though he'd never say anything, Tig was relieved. He was afraid she'd never be okay around him again.
Tig muscled back the lever into place, and Sorcha slid the serpentine belt off. "Set it over there, Babe. That way we'll be able to find it again." She laid the circular strip of rubber on the counter Tig indicated and returned just in time to catch the alternator that Tig birthed from the engine.
"Ahh!" she squealed, not because of the grease, but because she hadn't expected it to be so fast.
"Go trade Dog for one of the re-mans in the back," he chuckled. She nodded and trotted off, carrying the used part like an infant. She loved helping her uncles in the garage. Her mother wasn't keen on her little girl being a grease monkey, but there was little she could do to stop Sorcha, especially with Tig around. He always encouraged her love of engines. Though she'd probably never be able to fully diagnose one, Sorcha's twelve-year-old brain didn't do too bad when it came to remembering how to perform simple procedures. For a girl, she was a decent mechanic. He'd never thought of having kids of his own, but Sorcha was a really good substitude. All he had to do was make sure she didn't kill herself and then Chibs took her back at the end of the day. If more girls were raised like she was, he might actually get married someday. The redhead returned carrying the almost-new part just as she had its predecessor. On her tip-toes, she strained but still couldn't quite reach to put the part into place.
"Uncle Tig," she whined. "Help." Instead of taking the part from her, he lifted her up high enough to install it herself. He wanted her to learn.