When the Sons returned from the safehouse, Chibs parked his bike and immediately walked towards the back lot. "Where are you going?" Hap asked.

"Where do you think?" Chibs retorted, his fuse still short. He turned to face the Tacoma Killer. "Sorry, Hap. I've gotta get away from this shit and get my head clear. I'll be back to line up for the funeral tomorrow."

Happy nodded in understanding. "Ok. I'll buzz you if anything changes."

"Good. You do that," Chibs called over his shoulder as he strode to the beater car.

The Scot punched in his security code and stepped into Aoife's apartment. A slightly acrid smell still lingered outside, but the interior air was scented with coffee and sugar. He inhaled and closed his eyes, allowing some of his anger and frustration to slip away.

A baby's cry interrupted his thoughts, and Chibs glanced across the living room. Abel's portable crib was set up next to the coffee table. Shedding his cut, Chibs walked over and leaned over to scoop up the sniffling baby. "Hey, there, wee one," he cooed, watching Abel kick his tiny legs and wiggle with what Chibs interpreted as infant-glee at the attention. Chibs loved kids, and he relished that the youngest ones weren't frightened by his imposing figure and scarred cheeks. That fear came later, like when they reached the age of that poor girl in the safehouse. That whole incident had shaken him to the core. She had to be within a year or two of Kerrianne's age and, God help him, he still wasn't sure what he would have done if Jax hadn't busted in the door. Another wiggle from Abel brought Chibs back to the present. He dragged a calloused finger down Abel's downy cheek. "You're a happy little guy, ain't you?" In the distance, he heard running water from the bathroom and Aoife emerged, wrapped in a sapphire blue robe that matched her eyes. Chibs pulled Aoife close with his free arm and kissed her. "You have a houseguest," he commented.

"Aye. Gemma called about two hours ago. She went to drop off Abel with Jax and couldn't find him. She asked if I could keep Abel while she finished getting things ready for the funeral tomorrow."

"Ah," he murmured before capturing her lips in another kiss. "You look beautiful tonight. Love how that robe looks with your eyes."

"Thank you, love." Abel started to fuss again and claimed Aoife's gaze. "Someone likes to the be the center of attention, now doesn't he? We were just getting ready for a diaper change and a bottle, weren't we, little boy?" She said as she took the babe from Chibs' arms.

"I'll make up the bottle, lass," Chibs volunteered, kissing Aoife's forehead.

"You just don't want to deal with the diaper change," she chuckled over her shoulder as she put Abel down on the changing pad.

"Aye, you'd be right," he laughed as he measured out the formula.

When Abel's bottle was ready, Chibs turned with it in hand and a burp cloth tossed over his shoulder and stopped. Aoife had settled on the loveseat with Abel in her arms, and the baby was gurgling sleepily while she sang to him softly in Gaelic. The scene was so perfect that it took his breath away, and his heart clutched as he imagined in Aoife's arms, not Abel, but a child of his blood born from her body. The strength and suddenness of the fantasy struck him dumb.

Abel began to cry, breaking Chibs' reverie, and he perched himself on the arm of the loveseat and handed her the bottle and burp cloth. Aoife leaned her head against Chibs' thigh as she fed Abel, and the Scot stroked her hair. "Gemma said he usually falls asleep before the end of his bottle at this time of night," she explained. "Then I'll put him to bed."

"No rush, lass. Watching you with him is beautiful," he confessed.

She rolled her head so she could look up into his eyes. "Not something I expect to come out of my badass Scottish biker's mouth," Aoife teased. "Sometimes I forget you're a father."

"Aye, sometimes I do, too," he agreed regretfully. "If I'd had my way, I'd have had two or three little bairns running about instead of just me Kerrianne. Just wasn't meant to be, I guess."

"You talk like you're ancient. You're not too old to have more kids," Aoife commented lightly, but their eyes met, and the two stared for a long minute, each wondering exactly what the other was thinking.

"What about you, lass? You want kids?" Chibs asked, not sure why he was holding his breath for her answer.

"Aye. With the right father." They shared another look, interrupted only by Abel fussing as he lost contact with the bottle. True to Gemma's prediction, Abel fell asleep before the end of his bottle. Chibs and Aoife stayed where they were, speaking in hushed tones. "You're more troubled than you were when you left me this morning." Aoife said softly.

"Aye," Chibs admitted.

"Is it Donna's death or something else?"

Chibs marveled at how insightful she could be. "'Somethin' else. I almost did something awful tonight, lass. I'm about afraid to tell you about it."

She rose then, Abel in her arms, and walked him to his crib. "If you didn't do the awful thing, why are you afraid to tell me?" she asked as she laid the baby down and stroked his forehead affectionately.

"Because I almost did. And if I hadn't been interrupted, I think I would've." Aoife came to him then, arms outstretched, and he poured the whole bloody story out in soft sobs in her hair. "The whole time she was there crying, all I could think of was Kerrianne, and how this girl was somebody's baby, too." After a minute, he cursed. "Seems like I don't do anything but cry like a fucking baby anymore. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me."

Aoife suddenly took him by the shoulders and pushed him far enough away that she could stare into his eyes. "There is nothing fucking wrong with you. I get that you have to be this masculine tough guy in front of the club. You're a bunch of badass bikers. That's fine. I don't care. The IRA's not that different. But you don't have to put up a front with me. Since I've met you, you've had a friend beaten to death, a brother's wife murdered, your best friend's son has nearly died, and someone has tried to kill me and you more than once." She inclined her head toward the cast that still immobilized her left arm. "You're fucking entitled to feel emotional." She kissed him tenderly but firmly. "And I'm your old lady. You can feel things in front of me before you lock them away from everyone else. Okay?" He bobbed his head once in a nod. "Come on. We'll leave the wee one to sleep." She turned off lights as she lead him down the hall to the bedroom. When they reached the room, she closed the door and turned on the baby monitor. He sat down on the bed and she stood between his knees, arms around his neck. "So, what else are you trying to bottle up inside?"

"I think you've covered it." He traced the curve of her face with his hand. "What did I do before I found you, lass?"

She caught his hand and held it to her cheek before saying, with a hint of a smile. "You were there, I wasn't. What did you do?"

His lips formed a smirk. "Drank a bottle of Jack…" His voice trailed off as he realized his other emotion-drowning activity before Aoife.

"Fucked a crow eater or two?" she supplied and chuckled at his expression. "Don't look at me like that, Filip. You think I don't know how you and the boys talk? You think that dealing with pain that way is something unusual?" She released his hand. "Let me tell you a secret, a mhuirnín. When Adam died, I thought I died with him. I cried, but I felt nothing. I was dead inside. At his wake, his best friend Connor and I got staggering drunk and ended up sleeping together. We kept it up for a month or so, until we were fit for other humans again. Any relationship between us was doomed from the start, but we reminded each other that there were other emotions in the world other than blinding grief. We reminded each other than we were alive. Let me remind you of all the good things there are to feel."

Chibs stared at her, uncertain, as she turned her back to him and dropped the sapphire blue robe, leaving her in pajama pants and tank top. Her right hand gathered her hair up and out of the way, baring her right shoulder-blade to him.

"Mother of Christ," he breathed. "It's fucking gorgeous." He pressed his lips to the tattoo once, and then pulled back to admire it again. The painstakingly rendered crow sat serenely on one arm of the Celtic cross that covered her back. A stem of Scottish thistle with three blooms dangled from the bird's beak. His hands traveled under the tank top and lifted it up and over her head. He pulled her naked back against him to whisper, "When?"

Aoife turned in his arms and mimicked his action with her tank top with his. She placed her lips against the Brigid's cross on his chest. "The morning after I saw this. We're marked now, the both of us. You as mine and me as yours."

The entire series of events clicked into place for Chibs. It explained Hap's delayed departure as well as the smirks the Tacoma Killer had been giving him since then. "Aye, we are." Chibs eased her pajama pants down her legs. "I love you so fucking much, Aoife," he growled as he removed his jeans and boxers.

"I love you, Filip." They tumbled into bed, kissing and caressing.