Chibs stopped on the landing outside Aoife's door. He stared down at the key in his hand. He hated how he felt right now. The tension between he and Clay at the clubhouse had thrown him for a loop and allowed his demons to resurrect in his head. He had predicted Clay would be upset. What he hadn't expected was the way the President's hard eyes never left him for the next hour, even as Clay made a series of calls on his cell phone from just inside the chapel room. When Clay had finally departed for Gemma and home, he skipped Chibs as he was going around the bar saying his goodbyes. Everyone else was treated to gruff hugs, backslaps, and handshakes.

Chibs was pissed: at Clay, at McKeavy for dying, at Cameron for being a prick in general, at the ATF for fucking with his club. Rage and anger were familiar old friends and motivators, though. What he hated more was the ball of worry and fear that had taken up residence in his belly, murdering his appetite and eating away at his sleep. He felt like his whole world was spinning out of control. He bristled against the feeling of weakness, but it wouldn't go away. After Happy had slapped a congratulatory hand on his shoulder and disappeared with a willing croweater, Chibs had downed another beer, weighing the merits of just collapsing onto his bed in the dorm room at the club house. Then he rejected the coward's way out. The prospect of Aoife seeing him emotionally wounded like this was skin-crawlingly uncomfortable, but not feeling her kiss and hearing her comforting voice was worse. Taking a calming breath, he punched his security code in and turned his key in the door.

Aoife looked up from her book as Chibs stepped inside and locked the door behind him. "Welcome home, Filip," she greeted him. He stood still, unsmiling, his jaw locked. He couldn't speak. He was supposed to protect her, not run to her for comfort. And what would she say if he told her that part of what was eating away at his heart was that he had angered Clay; that for the first time in a decade, he had disappointed the closest thing to a father figure he had, just by being with her? After a moment, he raised a gloved hand and caressed his goatee, unsure how to begin. Chibs let his eyes roam over the cozy living room and kitchen. Aoife's purse and jacket sat on the second bar stool, leaving the first for him. The coffee maker was already on, filling the apartment with its rich scent, and his old lady had set out mugs and whiskey on the counter. Down the hall, he could see the dresser she had picked out for him. It must have been delivered today. She was so much more than he deserved. She had already framed some of his new photos of Kerrianne and arranged them on top. Seeing the photos, Chibs bit his lip and closed his eyes. He heard footsteps and felt Aoife's hand on his cheek "Sweetheart," Aoife murmured. She brought her lips to the left cheek scar, and Chibs wrapped his arms around her body. Tears escaped from Chibs' eyes and flowed down his grizzled cheeks as he held Aoife like a drowning man with a life preserver.

He finally released her and kissed her forehead gently. "Sorry 'bout that, lass. All the shit going on is fucking with my head."

"You want to talk about it?" Aoife asked as she stepped into the kitchen to mix up their drinks.

"Yeah. No. Maybe," he answered haltingly.

Aoife drew herself up to her full height and looked sternly into his eyes. "I love you. I'm your old lady. If you can't talk to me about how you feel, who can you talk to?"

More tears slipped from his eyes. Chibs described what they knew about McKeavy's death, and Aoife shuddered when he mentioned that the man had been beaten, his neck broken, and then left for dead. Chibs sank onto the couch and buried his head in his hands. "I've known McKeavy for years, but when I first found out he was gone, all I could think was that he would never bring me another picture of my baby." The sobs overtook him, and then Aoife was in front of him, pulling him towards her. When he sat back again, he could see the wet spots on her shirt from his tears.

"McKeavy brought those photos to you?" she asked softly. Chibs swallowed hard and nodded, unsuccessfully willing his crying eyes to stop.

"Every one I've seen since I came here," he managed to say.

"Oh, sweetheart, that's an awful blow. Come here." Aoife laid down against the back of the deep couch, her head against the opposite arm, and held out her hand. She coaxed him so that his body faced hers, his head pillowed on her chest. She pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and pulled it over them. While she ran her fingers through his hair, he listened to the steady beat of her heart.

"Here I am, blubbering like a damn baby," he muttered into the soft cotton of her shirt, his eyes starting to close as the tears dried.

"You're acting like a man who's grieving," Aoife corrected gently. She held him. Under her breath, she finally said, "I can't believe your ex-wife would keep your daughter from you like this."

Wrapped in his old lady's arms, warm and safe and loved, Chibs was seconds away from unconsciousness, but the word "ex-wife" rang an alarm bell in his head. This wonderful woman deserved the whole, unadulterated truth, but he couldn't manage it now. "Problem's not Fiona, lass. It's the bastard she's with. Tha's somethin' we nee' ta talk about," he said, so sleepy that the ends of his words were dripping away. "I nee' to tell ya the whole bloody bus'ness."

"What do you mean, Filip?" Aoife whispered, but he was lost to sleep. She dropped a series of affectionate kisses into his hair. "You never have to be afraid to cry in front of me," she promised. "Is tú mo ghrá."

Chibs awoke to the comforting rhythm of Aoife's heart. He inhaled, and the warm, homey scent of her filled his lungs. His eyes drifted down between them, where her left and his right arm crossed as the two of them held each other. This was where he belonged. He would show anyone who harbored any doubts about her how good she was for him. He sighed, shifted to relieve the crick in his neck, and closed his eyes again.

Chibs' eyes flew open at Aoife's emergency alarm went off. She grabbed her cell phone off the end table by her head, looked at the screen, and let out a stream of curse words. "Filip, love," she hissed urgently. "I need to get downstairs and open the shop." He sat up groggily, and she was off the couch like a shot. As she dashed back and forth, she talked to him. "Feel free to use the shower. I'll pop up here with some muffins for the guys once I get the place opened up."

"Sweetheart, there are some things we need to talk about," Chibs insisted.

"I know. You said last night. Tonight I have to go see Mum for her birthday. Aunt Rois wanted me to come see her tomorrow and I know she'd love to see you again. Come with me, and we can talk on the way to and from," she suggested as she pulled her curls into a messy bun.

"Aye, that sounds like a plan," he confirmed. He wanted to get this over with, but, really, he told himself, what was the urgency? How much could two days matter in the grand scheme of things? Chibs stood and caught her by the hand. "I love you, lass. Just remember that."

"I love you, too, Filip." Aoife pressed a kiss to his lips and darted down the steps.

Gemma looked up from her magazine. "Hey, baby girl!" Aoife smiled from her spot in the office doorway. "Didn't expect to see you here. Your old man is out with Jax."

"I'm actually here to see if someone can take a look at the brakes on the station wagon. I just came from seeing my mother. On the way down that last hill back there, I almost sailed through a stop sign. Scared me half to death."

Gemma stood up. "Shit, baby, that's not good. We close in a half-hour, but you're family. We'll get it done. I can always give you a lift home if Chibs is out too long. I'll be right back." Aoife settled into the chair Gemma had vacated and made a quick call to assure her mother she'd made it back to Charming okay. As soon as the Queen reached the far corner of the garage, the office phone rang. Aoife heard Gemma yell for Piney to get the phone, and then the prospect called back that Piney was in the bathroom - again.

On the fifth ring, Aoife called across the garage, "I'll get it," and answered the phone. "Teller-Morrow Automotive."

A woman's voice with an Irish accent said breathlessly, "I need to speak with Filip Telford, please."

Aoife's brain short-circuited. No one but her called Chibs by his real name. "I'm sorry, he's out right now."

"But he's perfectly all right, aye?" The woman asked.

Aoife frowned at the receiver before answering. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"I know Filip was with McKeavy on his last trip, and we all know what happened to him. Kerrianne was so worried that I had to call."

Aoife's blood rushed in her ears, and her palms began to sweat. McKeavy was the man Chibs had cried over last night. Kerrianne. Chibs' daughter. The one McKeavy had delivered photos of. She adjusted the phone on her shoulder. "Who-who is this?" she asked softly.

There was a muffled noise on the other end, like someone was holding their hand over the phone to speak to someone in the room, and then the woman said into the phone, "Pardon?"

"I can't take a message for him if I don't know who you are. Who is this?" Aoife demanded, her voice shaking even as she got louder. She stood up, her left hand clenched into a fist around the end of her cast.

"Who the hell are you, talking to me like this?" the woman shot back. There was more background noise on the other end of the phone, and then the woman resumed speaking. "Just tell him his wife called, and his daughter's glad to hear he's okay." His wife. Aoife's heart dropped into her stomach. She felt like vomiting. "I have to ring off," Fiona said curtly, and the line went dead.

Is tú mo ghrá - You are my love.