Chibs cradled Aoife against him, hoping that the warmth of his skin against hers would reassure her. She laid her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart and his humming of old lullabies. After several long minutes, Chibs paused and listened to Aoife's even breathing, indicating that she had finally allowed sleep to overtake her. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling fan turning lazy circles, too deep in thought to sleep. He wrapped one of her curls around his finger, loosed it, and twisted it up again, relishing the silky feel of it sliding through his grip. Her anxiety unsettled his soul. He had someone outside the club who loved him, scars and sins and all, and he hated seeing her in torment. In the several months since she had first captivated him, she had become his rock, strong and resilient. Seeing her so anxious was just wrong. He gazed down at her pale, freckled face, peaceful in sleep. "We gotta fix this lass. I need to see that beautiful smile every day." He kissed the top of her head.

Chibs mumbled a string of incoherent curse words as the alarm clock blared to life. The only words Aoife could make out were "bloody fucking alarm" and "too fucking early in the damn morning." She chuckled, and Chibs cracked open one eye. "You laughing at me, lass?" he growled grumpily.

Aoife leaned in for a kiss. "Maybe," she teased.

"It's too fucking early. What are you doing up?" he grumbled as he looked over her through half-closed eyes.

"Cole's takin' a sprint course, so I have to open Tuesdays and Thursdays for the next three weeks. You can sleep in as late as you like, my love."

"Think I'll do just that, aye. I was up late." He plumped his pillow, preparing to go back to sleep.

Aoife frowned. "I'm sorry about last night," she whispered, tears welling up.

Chibs bit his lip. That wasn't how he wanted this morning to start. "No apologies," he reached up and cupped her chin with his hand. "And no tears. If I get my ass up this early, it's to see your gorgeous smile." He kissed her tenderly. "I love you, Aoife."

"Love you, Filip."

Lyla leaned forward, her elbows on the top of the pastry case and her chin in her hands. "So, you and the Scottish biker?" she asked.

Aoife's head snapped up and she took a quick glance around the coffee shop to see if anyone was within in earshot. "Aye," she confirmed, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks.

Lyla frowned at Aoife's reaction. "It isn't public knowledge?"

Aoife looked into Lyla's pretty blue eyes and saw only friendliness and curiosity. She kept her voice low. "Not really. It's not always a good thing for other folks to know that you're a Samcro old lady."

"Oh! Guess I never thought of that. He seems…nice. He and the guy with the mohawk are funny when they're watching movies being made. They're not creepy like some of the other guys. That bald guy with the gravelly voice gives me the willies."

Aoife taped down the lid of the pastry box. "Hap? He would appreciate hearing that. He thrives on it. All of them take care of their brothers and their families. And as for my Filip…well, I have no words…"

"It's okay," Lyla assured Aoife with a hand on her arm. "Your face says it all."

Ima's solo masturbation scene ended, and Juice shoved another fistful of popcorn in his mouth and leapt to his feet, applauding. Chibs clapped briefly without getting off the couch. Ima shrugged on her filmy robe and paraded past them, giving Chibs a glare and Juice an air kiss and a wink. "Okay, everybody, take fifteen," Luann announced.

Chibs and Juice headed out for a smoke. The Scotsman tapped one of his cigarettes out of the pack and offered it to Juice. They leaned against the cool metal of the building in silence as they both lit up and inhaled.

"You okay, Chibs?" Juice finally asked in between drags. Chibs responded with a shrug of his shoulders. "I've never seen a guy less happy to be watching porn be made." When the Scot still didn't answer, Juice continued. "You keep that scowl up and you'll be the one named 'Happy.'"

Chibs finally cracked a small smile. "Don't you let the Tacoma Killer hear you say that. He's built a reputation on that fucking scowl." He pulled another puff of smoke into his lungs before lowering his voice so only Juice could hear. "It's Aoife, Juicey-boy. She's been a nervous wreck the past week or so. I've scared her just by coming into the apartment."

"What's wrong?" Juice's brown eyes conveyed sincere concern.

"Not sure. She says she don' know, just that she's got a feeling that things are going to get worse. Maybe she's tired or working too fucking hard or maybe just everything with Donna and the club is gettin' to her. I don't know what the fuck to do, Juice. Seeing her this way tears me up inside."

"You want advice?" The mohawked Son asked. Chibs raised an eyebrow at him. "Look, I don't know shit about a lot of things, but it seems to me that if Aoife's tired and overworked, the thing to do is to get her out of the shop. Take her out of town so that she can't work even if she wants to." The Scot stroked his goatee as he considered the proposal. "I mean, if that's what's wrong, it should help. Can't fucking hurt."

Chibs nodded slowly. "Aye, that's true." He clapped a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Thanks, Juice."

Filming wrapped up early for the day. Juice volunteered to escort some of the actresses home while Chibs helped Luann and Lyla secure the building. Juice sat on his motorcycle as his last two charges, Ima and a brunette, pulled into the parking space in front of Ima's apartment. The two women got out of the car and headed for the door. Ima glanced back at him, still astride his bike, and sauntered over. She twisted a piece of her long blonde hair around her pointer finger and looked up at him through her lashes. "Aren't you going to check the place to see if it's safe for us?"

Juice sighed and released the chin strap on his helmet. Normally, he would be up for some carnal fun with Ima, but earlier that day she had cornered him and not-so-subtly pressed him for information about Jax. Juice's pride was wounded.

"No, it's fine. Thank you for making sure we got here safely," the brunette insisted. She grabbed Ima by the wrist, pulling her towards the apartment door. "Come on, Ima." Ima pouted, but Juice waited for the door to close behind them, and then the dark-haired woman peeked out the window and gave him a thumbs-up and a wave. He turned and rolled out of the parking lot in the direction of the main drag.

Juice entered the coffee shop at ten minutes before closing to find it nearly deserted. Aoife had her back to him, wiping down some tables. "Hey, beautiful!" Juice called out cheerfully. The Irish woman jumped.

"Oh, hey, Juice!" she recovered and smiled at him. She dropped her rag on the table and accepted a kiss on each cheek from him. "Are you here to give these lonely, leftover muffins and cookies a home?"

The mohawked man smirked. "You know I am. In my belly."

"I'll bag them so they're easier to carry on the bike." She plucked the rag up as she walked behind the counter.

While she washed her hands, Juice apologized. "Didn't mean to scare you when I came in." Aoife shook her head to indicate he shouldn't worry about it and began bagging muffins. "Are you doing okay, honey?" he asked.

"Well as can be expected," Aoife replied, both of them knowing it was a non-answer.

"Chibs is worried about you. He says you've been nervous and jumpy. You want to talk about it?"

"No, honestly, I don't, Juicey."

"Okay." Juice bit his lip. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

"I know. That means a lot to me. I jus' have to sort out what's in my own head first." She handed him the bag and accepted the bills he offered in return. "And, Juice…" her voice trailed off.

"What is it?"

"Thanks for caring enough to ask."

"You're my brother's old lady and you're my friend." He cupped her left cheek with his right hand and gave her a long kiss on her right cheek. "I love ya, girl, don't you forget it." His hand was already pushing the door handle down when he stopped. "Hey, Aoife, do you still have that burner phone I gave you for your cousin to call?"

Chibs finished his smoke and dropped it to the concrete, crushing the butt out with his boot. The garage was empty except for the prospect sweeping up and Juice tinkering with his own bike in a back corner. Juice gave Chibs a look and a raised eyebrow that seemed to say, well, what are you waiting for?

The Scotsman ambled up to the office doorway. Clay's permanent scowl was even deeper than usual, and his jaw was locked so tight that Chibs couldn't figure out how the president hadn't bitten clean through the cigar clenched in his teeth. The president growled at the paperwork he was reading. Fan-fucking-tastic, Chibs thought to himself before he cleared his throat.

Clay's head snapped up. "What?" The president grunted.

"Sorry to bother, Clay, but I'm going to need a day or two off soon when the garage and the club can both spare me."

"A day or two?" Clay repeated around the cigar, managing to turn the four simple words into a blade that cut to the quick.

Chibs clenched his teeth and took a deep breath, telling himself that Clay's tension had nothing to do with him. The Samcro president had been acting strange for a while now, and most of his anger seemed directed at Jax. "Aye. A day or two."

Clay yanked the cigar out of his mouth and pointed at Chibs with it. "For the Irish princess, I'm sure. What does she want this time?" Chibs' nostrils flared, and he felt his hands involuntarily curl into fists. Then Clay abruptly stopped and held his hand up, palm out and fingers spread in a "stop" motion. "Forget I asked. Just take it. Leave tomorrow after we close up shop and just be back by Sunday evening."

"Thanks, Clay," Chibs began, but Clay continued.

"I need somethin' from you in return. With our new movie-making business," Clay spat out the word, "and Gemma recovering from the accident, we're behind on shit here at the garage. The paperwork's a fucking disaster, and some of the guys have been slacking. Tomorrow, you're in charge of getting this place back on track. You get us caught up on as much work as possible. I need somebody who understands how to get shit done, so I'm leaning on you."

Chibs straightened just a little at the responsibility, grateful for Clay's renewed confidence in him. "Won't let you down, Clay."

The president gave a quick nod. "I know you won't. This weekend, keep your burner on you. If shit goes down, I can't afford you to be out of contact."

"Will do," Chibs agreed. "And…thanks again for the weekend."

Clay responded by putting his cigar back in his mouth and waving his hand in the direction of the door.

The burner Juice had asked about vibrated with an incoming call not long after Aoife had collapsed on her sofa with an Irish coffee in hand. "Hello?" she answered.

"Aoife, love!" Her cousin's warm baritone voice greeted her.

"Declan! What a pleasant non-surprise!"

His happy chuckle rumbled through the phone. "Your friend told you I'd be calling, eh? He also told me you'd been down. What's the matter, lovely?"

"Where do I begin?" Aoife asked. Even though they were both on disposable phones, she left out names and some other specifics as the happenings of the last few weeks spilled from her lips. She shared the nagging feelings, the concrete fears, and the general anxiety that plagued her. Declan murmured confirmations that he was listening and just let her talk.

"Wish I was there to wrap you in my arms and give you a hug," he sighed when words stopped gushing from her lips. "But you've got your man there, aye? He loves you to death."

As the conversation meandered on, Aoife considered Declan's comments. Chibs was worried, she knew. She read it in his furrowed brow and the hesitation in his voice when he approached her. She mulled over the conversation she and Declan were having, and a lightbulb came on in her head. Maybe there was a way to confess how she felt without betraying Gemma's secrets.