A/N: I just enjoy torturing Tiggy.
Tig hadn't slept or eaten much in the days after Dawn's death. He was tired, but every time he closed his eyes he remembered her screams. He knew that his body needed food, but his stomach felt as if it were perpetually knotted, and the thought of eating made him feel sick.
So he'd gone through the days just kind of living. Not really thinking about much else besides what had happened, only speaking when spoken too.
Then there had been the thing with Opie. That had just made the knot feel tighter. Not only had he betrayed his daughter but his actions had ultimately cost a young man his life and had left Opie's children fatherless.
One night, after the thoughts of everything had become too hard to bear, Tig took a ride to the local bar. It was a dive, filled with old men and drunks. Dark and dank and quiet, it seemed like a good place to get shitfaced alone.
Tig sat down in a seat at the far end of the bar and ordered five shots of whiskey. When they arrived, he downed them all within a minute. The alcohol burned his throat but Tig ignored it. He deserved to hurt and soon he would be feeling much better anyway.
Sure enough, within a few minutes Tig began to feel a buzz. Nothing huge. He was a pretty big guy so five shots didn't do too much, but he still felt better than he had originally.
He quickly ordered another four shots, hoping to dull his mind completely.
00
The booze did its job and within half an hour Tig was sufficiently drunk. For the first time in weeks he felt okay, as if nothing mattered. Somewhere deep inside he knew that something was wrong, but it didn't hurt like it had before.
With his mind now calm, the knot that Tig felt in his stomach disappeared and he felt hungry. He ordered some fries and was halfway through them when he heard a familiar voice.
"Hey there."
It was Chibs. The Scotsman sat down next to Tig.
"Figured I might find ya here."
"Hey," Tig replied. He wasn't sure how to feel about his friend showing up. Part of him was grateful that someone cared about him enough to track him down. At the same time, he kind of wanted to wallow in misery by himself.
Still, he tried to be decent.
"You can have some," he said, pushing the basket of fries towards Chibs.
Chibs smiled at him and pushed it back.
"Nah, ya should eat it. You're gettin' too thin as it is."
Tig shrugged. Having not eaten much for so long, he felt full anyway. Not only that, having food in his stomach was killing his buzz. He motioned for the bartender to come over.
"Five shots of Jameson for me, and five for him," he pointed at Chibs.
The bartender looked Tig over warily, as if trying to decide whether or not it was good to serve him again before finally pouring the drinks.
"Thanks," Tig called out. He picked up one of the shots and watched as Chibs did the same. "Cheers, or somethin'," he mumbled.
Both men swallowed the liquor down at the same time. Tig immediately reached for the next shot, then the third.
"I take it that you're not alright," Chibs said, as Tig finished the fourth shot.
Tig put the empty shotglass down and smirked.
"What gives you that idea? I'm absolutely fucking fine."
Chibs shook his head.
"I'm worried about ya."
"Don't be." Tig reached for the fifth shotglass and quickly downed it. "I deserve this. All of this... shit. Pain. Fuck."
He could feel the buzz returning and it made it hard to think.
Chibs remained calm.
"I'm not goin' to argue that ya haven't done some fucked up shit, but sittin' here gettin' plastered doesn't solve anything."
"It solves the voices in my head," Tig answered, vaguely aware of how odd that sounded. "I mean. It shuts them up...You won't get it."
Noticing that Chibs wasn't touching his shots, Tig reached over to take one. Chibs didn't stop him.
"What do ya mean?"
"Don't you get it? I failed. I failed my kid and I failed Opie and Jax and I failed Opie's kids and his wife. I've fucked up so many lives, including the one that I should've protected above all. I deserve this. I deserve to suffer. I just... just needed some time... A few hours just to not think... Ugh."
Tig leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands.
"...Fuck," he mumbled.
Seeing the bartender glare at them, Chibs put a hand on Tig's back.
"Why don't we get out of here, aye? I'll take ya home."
"I don't wanna go home," Tig hissed, "Fuck, just let me be!"
Chibs frowned.
"Tiggy, I know ya don't realize it but you're talkin' really loud. The last thing ya need is another fight right now. Let's go back to my place."
Right then, Tig felt his stomach churn. Chibs was probably right, better to go now. He didn't want to end up throwing up on the bar or the patrons sitting near him.
"Okay," Tig agreed, trying to stand up.
The second his feet hit the ground he knew that he'd made a mistake. He wouldn't be able to keep himself upright. Thankfully, the bar stool was right next to him. He was able to lean back on it.
Chibs saw this and quickly pulled a hundred dollar bill out of his pocket, along with a fifty. He placed both on the bar and then came to Tig's side.
"Easy there. I've got ya."
Chibs put an arm around Tig's waist to help support him.
"Just go slow."
Tig grunted in reply and allowed Chibs to lead him out.
00
It was a chilly evening and even with long sleeves and his cut on, Tig felt cold. He couldn't help but shiver. Thankfully, Chib's car wasn't too far off. Soon enough Chibs had opened the passenger side door and had helped Tig in. Chibs got on the driver's side and they were off.
"We can pick up your bike tomorrow," Chibs told him, as he flipped the heat on.
Tig didn't reply. He rested his head against the window and closed his eyes. He still felt sick and was trying to stop himself from throwing up while combatting the voices that were telling him how awful he was.
Chib's house was only a few miles away, but the roads to get there had a lot of turns. It was after two of these that Tig begged Chibs to pull over.
Chibs obliged, and even rubbed Tig's back as he threw up on the side of the road. There wasn't much in his stomach besides the whiskey and the small amount of food he'd had earlier, and the alcohol burned as it came back up.
As he puked, Tig could hear Chibs talking, but he couldn't make out what the man was saying. Whatever it was seemed like it was meant to be soothing. His head was pounding and his stomach was still turning and he felt so sick that tears were beginning to form in his eyes. It took all of his strength to hold them back.
Eventually, Tig felt somewhat better. Enough to where he felt fairly sure that he could make the rest of the trip back to Chib's place without getting sick again. He closed the car door and sat back, once again closing his eyes.
The rest of the trip went without incident. Chibs pulled into his driveway and got out of the car, then made his way around to Tig's side. He opened the door and helped Tig out.
Tig didn't fight him. He allowed himself to be pulled along on the walk to Chib's front door, and he allowed himself to be brought inside the house and into the living room. Chibs deposited him on the couch.
Tig cracked his eyes open but quickly closed them. He could hear Chibs walking off towards another room. A few seconds later, he heard the footsteps return.
Chibs put a bucket down on the ground next to Tig's feet.
"Just in case," He said. Then he kneeled down and began untying Tig's boots.
"You don't have to do that," Tig said, kicking Chib's hands away. "Just let me go. I'll be okay, just let me go. I deserve this."
Chibs sighed.
"Tigger, shut up," Chibs replied. "Despite everything I am still your friend. I care about ya. Now stay quiet and let me take your boots off."
Tig groaned, but complied.
"I don't deserve this, Chibs, why are you doing this? I'm a terrible person, fuck, Chibs. My kid was calling out for me, begging for me to help her and I let her die. I wish it was me. I wish more than anything that it was me. Do you believe me?" Tig opened his eyes and looked straight at his friend. "I really would. I swear I would."
"I know ya would," Chibs moved to sit next to Tig. "I know ya would."
"But I can't. I can't kill myself and make her come back. I can't kill myself and make Opie come back either." Saying this, Tig began to cry. "I'm not even strong enough to stop... stop myself..." He trailed off, sobbing.
Chibs said nothing, and quietly put his arms around Tig, pulling him closer. Tig rested his head on Chib's shoulder, enjoying the contact even though he felt he didn't deserve it. His body shook as he began to cry harder.
"It's alright, Tig. It's goin' to be okay."
Tig sniffled and shook his head.
"It's never going to be okay."
Chibs knew that Tig was right. Nothing would ever bring Dawn or Opie back. Fawn would never see her sister again, Opie's kids and Lyla would never see their father and husband again. He did know one thing, though.
"Well, then we'll find a way to deal with it."
Hearing this, Tig calmed down slightly.
"I don't deserve this," he repeated, though he was sobbing less.
"Stop it," Chibs said, shaking his head. "I'm not goin' to let ya keep up with that. You're my friend. Ya didn't intend for any of this. We're goin' to get through it. As brothers, as a club. It'll be alright."
Tig really wasn't sure if Chibs was right, but the certainty in Chib's voice made him feel better. He continued to rest his head on Chib's shoulder, letting his friend hold him. Chibs slowly ran his hand up and down Tig's back, then slowly ran his fingers through Tig's hair.
The contact helped even more, and Tig no longer felt like crying.
Tomorrow he'd be miserable again. He knew it. But at least for right now, everything felt okay.