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...
Happy pulled into the clubhouse lot and spotted that the garage lights were on and the group's bikes were all sat at the racks. Sensing that the revenge plan may still be in action, he pulled up close to the clubhouse.
"Go inside, I'll handle the bags." He told Pixie, who nodded without argument, sensing the seriousness in Happy's voice. She trotted off and he noticed her limp again, she'd been on her feet pretty much all day he realised. Happy decided he had to try and get her to relax hoping that way she'd settle down and not worry about the others, or try to continue pushing her body past its limits. He spotted the Sons black van further up the lot which was dented at the front and there were bullet holes in the windscreen. He shook his head and went back for the bags, silently patting himself on the back for not pulling up alongside it. Happy took the bags inside and then locked the clubhouse door behind him. Pixie had put out a beer for him and insisted on helping him with the bags, they put them down in her room and he clicked and pointed at her leg.
"Get changed and take your leg off, kid. You're hurting."
Pixie nodded. "Are you gonna stay?"
"Until I know you're safe and the others have finished."
"Thanks, I'll be out in a bit." Pixie smiled.
Happy nodded, satisfied and turned to leave, he reached the door, then looked back. "Leave the bags 'til tomorrow, you're too tired to unpack."
Pixie, who was currently leaning over them, put her hands up in surrender. "You know me too well." She picked up the plush dog for Happy and tossed it to him. "Here."
Happy smiled down at the little toy and tucked it into his pocket. "Thanks." He shut the door behind him and moved to the sofas, grabbing the beer on the way and turning on the stereo to a low volume. His duffel bag was still on the floor from where he'd rushed in, dumped it, grabbed the truck's keys and rushed out to find Pixie. He flopped down onto the couch and unzipped the bag, searching for his black sketchbook, taking out his denim jacket and tossing it on the floor as he looked for the little book. He spotted the blue cover and tugged it out, feeling compelled to draw. He took a pencil from his kutte and began to sketch out roughly what he was seeing in his mind. Eventually, Pixie appeared from her room in a hoodie and sweatpants, hair braided and looking significantly more relaxed. She'd taken off her prosthetic as instructed and hopped over to where Happy was chilling on the couch and leant over the back so she could see what he was up to.
"That's really good Happy!" She enthused, he'd drawn a little fairy kid with beautiful wings and flowing dark hair. She was seated on a tree branch, her dress torn and there was a look of mischief and stubbornness on her face.
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"It's how I see you." Happy said as he finished it off, writing "Little Maniac" just under it.
"I love it." Pixie giggled. "If you want, I could show you my sketchbook? It's got the concept art for my tattoos in it.
