"So Bad It Hurts" (A Happy Lowman/Sons of Anarchy One Shot)

So Bad It Hurts - Part 1

"Aye, I'd come scoop ya up, darlin', but I'm up in Tacoma with a few of the boys. I'll make a call to the clubhouse, see who's around and send someone for ya."

Even though he was 700 miles away, Chibs' voice made me feel safe and secure. He and my dad had been friends since their younger, wilder days in Ireland. I was born there but was sent at the age of 5 to live with a distant relative in New York after my parents were both killed in a car crash. I don't remember much about that time, except that Chibs was waiting for me when I got off the plane in America, and he was the one who took me to my new home for the first time. He introduced me to my cousins who I'd be living with and bought me all new clothes and other necessities. He stayed with us in New York for that first week, but soon thereafter left me with a stuffed teddy bear, a kiss on the cheek and a promise that he'd call in a few days. By this time he was rooted in California, but he kept every promise he made me, calling as often as he could and flying out to see me for holidays and birthdays for years to come.

For all intents and purposes, Chibs Telford had become a father to me. And I could not love him more. He was my protector, my savior, my sounding board, and my best friend. As I got older, I learned I could share a lot more with him than I might have been able to if he were a biological parent. He was a great one to get advice from about peer pressure, how to handle the mean girls from my high school, and what a teenage boy really meant when he said he loved you.

When I turned 18 and graduated high school he flew me out to Charming to for a visit. On my last day there, it had become obvious to us both that saying goodbye was just too difficult and not what either of us wanted. Three years later, I am still here, living in an apartment down the street from T&M and the clubhouse. Chibs set me up there, so, according to Gemma, he could keep a close eye on me. I got a job at the diner waitressing and attend college part time. If it was up to Chibs, he'd be paying my way so I could focus on school full time and get my teaching degree, but he has done so much for me already. How can I possibly take any more help from a man who has given me everything my whole entire life?

But, as luck would have it, here I was at 3 am on the side of a deserted highway, asking him for help. I shook my head as I watched the smoke escape from under the hood of my car.

"You'll be ok, lass." I recognized immediately this was not a request, but a command. There were no girlie tears in Chibs' world; no falling apart over romantic break-ups or skinned knees. Whether I was 5 or 21, he had no expectation of me being anything other than strong and fearless.

"I'm fine," I assured him. "I have my gun in the glove if I need it. But there's no one out here tonight. I haven't seen another car in 10 miles. I'll use it if I need it, though. You don't have to worry about that."

"Good girl," he rasped. He had me on speaker – I could hear the faint music and raucous laughter of what was no doubt some sort of drunken party happening in the background. "I just sent a text. The tow is coming for ya. Hang in."

"Ok, Chibby," I teased, knowing how much he hated when I called him that. "Thank you."

"Oh, I love ya, Kelly girl. Ya know I'd do anything for ya. Even if you do call me by that 'orrid name."

"I love you, Da," I spoke softly into the phone. "Is that any better?

"Much. Be safe, love. Call ya tomorrow."

And with that, the call ended. My face was warm and flush from the adoration in his voice. I didn't call him "Da" very often. What little I remember of my real parents were just small snippets of moments in time - a Christmas dinner with my mother and father. Sitting on my father's lap while he read to me. Fishing out on a boat with them. But Chibs was there, in every single memory and he remained a constant throughout my life, no matter how many miles apart we were. Referring to him as Da did not feel like a strange thing to do, but it was sacred and special to me and not a word I threw around casually.