Meggie "Pixie" Barcroft is the first-ever Daughter of Anarchy. When her small charter in England is taken down by the IRA, twenty-two-year-old Pixie must flee to Charming to escape the IRA's radar and make a new life for herself. Follow her journey...
*AUTHOR'S NOTE: The following "Pilot Episode" chapters are set the day after the gun warehouse was burnt down by the Mayans. It is roughly half-way through the first episode, (post-Wendy drama, Abel's birth, Jax finding John Teller's book, Opie deciding whether to be a part of the club again and Gemma worrying that Jax is going soft).*
Chibs yawned and instantly regretted it. His head pounded like a motherfucker and his mouth felt like it had been dried out with tissue paper. He staggered to his feet in search of an empty glass tumbler, a rare find the morning after a Sons party. He found one under a pool table where three crow-eaters and a very blissful prospect by the name of Half-Sack were passed out in an untidy heap of limbs and beer cans. Chibs didn't even want to consider what they'd been up to. The tumbler had the remnants of a brownish liquid in it, so Chibs washed it out and knocked back a glass of fresh water from the tap behind the bar. It was then he realised, after stepping in a puddle of what he hoped was beer, he was missing a shoe. He heard groaning from across the room and looked up in time to see Tig falling forwards off of the couch and onto an unconscious body on the floor.
"Get your ass off my face before I carve it like a jack 'o' lantern." Came a low growl from under Tig, who hastily got to his feet, followed swiftly after by a bleary-eyed Happy.
"Good morning to you too, honey." Tig replied with his usual smirk, Happy just grunted and staggered away towards the dorms, probably to sleep off the mother of all hangovers.
"Good night?" Chibs asked Tig who was now searching for something through the pile of sleeping bodies that surrounded him. Chibs winced at the racket of his own voice, it sounded way too loud for his head.
"Oh hell yeah, can't remember a thing, and that's just how I like it." Tig grinned, rolling his shoulders as he eased the stiffness in them from sleeping rough. "Have you seen my wallet?" He asked spinning around on the spot, checking his surroundings as he patted himself down.
Chibs chuckled, watching Tig stumble around. "Nah, ye seen my shoe?" The Scotsman queried, surveying the absolute bedlam of the clubhouse.
Tig paused from looking under a black leather couch cushion and eyed Chibs with a confused expression. "What the fuck were you doing to lose a shoe?" He questioned humouredly.
"Beats me, cannae remember." Chibs responded, taking another drink of water and giving Tig a big smile.
Tig grinned back at his old friend. "Must have been a good night for you too then?"
"Aye, though I do remember drinking cherry tequila off of someone." Chibs recalled the hazy memory, Tig snorted a laugh.
"Summunsaytequila?" a muffled voice sleepily slurred before a hand appeared over the back of one of the sofas and Juice's head and shoulders emerged with a hickie the size of New Jersey on his neck.
"Way to go, Juicy! You got laid?" Tig jeered watching the younger Son heave himself into a sitting position.
"Considering I'm naked, yeah I'm guessing so, anyone seen my pants?" Juice grumbled a little, he had to admit he'd enjoyed himself but the chaos of the clubhouse and waking up behind a couch wasn't a great payoff, especially when he knew he'd probably be tasked with cleaning duty along with Half-Sack.
Chibs laughed heartily. "Wonder if someone's managed ta get through tha night with a complete outfit?" He mused, trying to do a headcount of all the passed out bodies in the bar area.
All three men looked around themselves at the carnage and half-naked bodies, then back at each other. "Nah." They chuckled together.
Juice went to say something when the sound of a motorbike being gunned up the road and into their lot, before coming to an abrupt stop, broke through the morning's peace and quiet.
Juice peeped through the metal blinds behind him. "Dude! there's a chick out there. She's got a Sons kutte." He exclaimed, sounding mildly excited and a little bewildered at the sight, no doubt questioning if he was still high.
"You sure it's a chick?" Tig asked, looking puzzled as he made his way with Chibs over to the window to look. The two men picking their way through the debris and stepping over upturned furniture to get there.
"Considering she's got a pink kutte, helmet and motorbike. I'd bet on it." Juice said, rolling his eyes, the older Sons never seemed to believe his judgements.
Chibs got a look for himself too, and sure enough, the figure was petite, definitely feminine. She kicked the chrome bike stand out on her Harley and sat side-saddle on the pink bike, hanging her baby pink backpack on one of the handlebars. Then she folded her arms, staring in the direction of the clubhouse. Waiting for the inevitable confrontation probably. Chibs could make out caramel skin, a pointed chin, button nose, and sparkly eyes. He took note of the bike too, guessing it was an Old Glory stunt bike, under the pink paint. The rider had long black hair which was tied up in two French braids, framing the Sons logo, the black patches and stood stark against the faded bubblegum pink kutte. Clay was going to have a field day with this.
"I didn't know we patched women?" Juice said after another couple seconds of gawking with the other two Sons.
"We don't." Tigs and Chibs echoed each other, exchanging a glance at one another, both trying to get a handle on the situation.
"Where's Highton? That's what it says on the back of her kutte." Juice queried, tipping his head to one side as he took in the complete surprise arrival in the lot.
"My best guess is somewhere in England. West Lancashire maybe?" Chibs thought aloud. It had been a very long time since he'd been to England, and tried to jog his memory so he could relay as much information to Clay as possible.
"Huh, well I guess I'd better find my pants and go get Jax?" Juice decided, looking up at the other two for direction and then got to his feet as Chibs nodded at him.
"Yeah. I'll go call Clay. Let's pray I don't get shot for waking him up early." Tig grumbled, recalling how the club president was grouchy at the best of times, but being woken up early when he no doubt had a hangover was like poking a lion with a stick.
"And I'll find my fuckin' shoe." Chibs mumbled to himself, eyes still on the young woman on the pink Harley.
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Hope you like the Pixie Barcroft mood board I put together :) -Lulu ♥♥♥
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