Title: I am a Nightmare
Author: charliepink
Rating: M
Pairing: Chibs/Juice
Summary: Chibs is overcome with guilt for everything that has happened to Juice, and he decides he must save him from prison. Yet, is there even enough left of Juice to save? ChibsxJuice - in which Juice finally has a chance at a happy ending.
Disclaimer: I did not make a profit off of this story. I do not own or know anyone or anything relating to Sons of Anarchy. This is a work of fiction.
Notes: Set after season 7 so full of spoilers for the entire season. Everyone who is dead at the end of the series is still dead (except for Juice.) Althea Jarry does not exist.
Title comes from the song "I am a Nightmare" by Brand New. The chapter titles are the lyric lines and also a hint as to what is to come in each chapter.
I have always hated the way Juice was treated throughout the later part of the show, and I especially hate his fate at the end of the series. I love the show, but I've always wished Juice could have been handled differently. Obviously, I doubt Sutter would have ever done Chibs/Juice the way my story is going to turn, but at least I have a chance to give Juice an alternate (and hopefully happier) ending.
*Cross-posted on AO3*
Chapter One:
"I am a Nightmare"
Scotch has become his best friend. The amber liquid has powerful properties; most specifically, it can dull the senses. Johnnie greets him when he returns home for the day, hits his head when the sun rises him from his bed. Red label is cheap, black tastes better, and blue best of all, but Chibs rarely touches ol' blue anymore. He needs quantity, not quality and $200 a bottle becomes expensive when the liquid flows like water.
Chibs leans back against the couch, barely feeling the embrace of the cushions. His mind is a haze, eyes hardly able to focus. Johnnie's in his glass and gone from the bottle. It's the second bottle in two days. Faintly, he considers that he'll have to get more, and for that he's going to have to dip into his personal safe. His wallet is empty. The safe isn't but it will be if he keeps this up.
He brings the glass to his lips and feels the room temperature liquid roll across his tongue. His brain is so fuzzy it doesn't burn anymore, and the sour aftertaste almost tastes sweet. He eagerly sucks it down, letting out a small sigh as he smacks his lips and sets the glass on the end table next to him.
He's still wearing his day clothes, dark jeans and flannel button-down underneath his leather Sons of Anarchy cut. He hadn't thought to change when he'd gotten home. Instead, he'd gone straight to the cabinet and pulled ol' Johnnie Walker down, eagerly raising the bottle to his lips. Anything to quickly dull the ache, the roaring pain.
Guilt is a powerful thing.
The television plays silently in front of him. The volume is turned down low, almost silent, and its light acts more for background substance than actual viewing. Chibs gazes blankly at the screen and contemplates breaking in another bottle but remains seated on the couch. His house feels empty, and he wishes for someone to talk to. Silence brings back bad memories and all he wants is to wash them away. The liquor works temporarily, but self-medicating in amber is a continuous thing. One day he will have to face his demons.
Today will not be that day.
xxx
Scoops and Sweets is the perfect clubhouse, but sometimes out-of-towners try to use its services. Chucky is sitting at a booth watching the door while the Sons are upstairs at Church when a mother and her young daughter walk inside. Chucky's eyes widen in surprise as he realizes he'd forgotten to lock the door behind the guys, and he wonders what they'll say if they come down to an inquisitive family asking for ice cream.
"We're closed!" he jumps up from the booth.
The mother looks at him closely, eyes squinting suspiciously when she notices his hands and lack of fingers. "It doesn't say closed."
Chucky's eyes flick towards the shop windows. There's no open or closed sign.
"Mommy, I want ice cream!" the little girl tugs at her mother's shirt sleeve.
"I'm sorry little girl, we're closed," Chucky says before the mother can speak.
"But I want ice cream!"
The girl's mother glares at him. "You need a closed sign."
"I'll accept that," Chucky answers.
"Aye, is there a problem here?"
Both Chucky and the mother turn towards the door in the back as Chibs and the rest of the Sons of Anarchy descend the stairs. Chucky twitches nervously. "They want ice cream." He points awkwardly towards the mother and her daughter.
"Well get them some ice cream then!" Tig says as he comes up from behind and smacks Chucky in the back of the head.
Chucky's wooden hand flies to his head and he rubs it uncomfortably, "Huh?"
T.O. appears out of nowhere. "Here you go, darling." He hands the little girl a vanilla ice cream cone. "On the house."
The little girl squeals happily as her mother thanks him, though she still eyes the men suspiciously. She ushers her daughter from the store, and as soon as they've left, Chibs slams the lock in its place. He whirls on Chucky, serious but also slightly playful tone to his voice, "Next time ya forget to lock the door, I'm taking the rest of yer fingers, aye lad?"
"I'll accept that," Chucky says again.
The guys laugh and T.O. motions towards the back of the store. "Chucky, man, we keep the freezer stocked in the back for a reason."
Chucky nods his head and says, "yeah, I forgot," and the guys laugh again. Despite his often lack of sense, the Sons have grown very fond of Chucky and they'd never truly wish any harm on him. They all know Chibs' words of taking his remaining fingers is an empty threat, and they aren't concerned with the wandering tourists. After all, they have the freezer stocked in case of such uncomfortable situations.
The guys say their goodbyes and then only Chibs, Tig, Happy, and Chucky remain. Chibs nods towards Chucky. "Off with ye, lad," he says affectionately. The two-fingered man holds a soft spot in his heart. Despite everything he's been through, he's always stood by their side.
Chucky jumps, and nods back. "Yeah, yes'sir!" He grabs his coat from where he'd slung it over one of the booths by the door and hurries from the building.
Tig laughs as they watch the man scurry away. "Sometimes I think he should be the one called Rat. He's so twitchy."
"He's a good man, though," says Happy.
Tig nods his head, "He is."
Chibs makes sure the door is firmly locked, then the three men take a seat at one of the booths. Even though they trust the newer members of the Sons, there is still a different type of bond between Chibs, Tig, and Happy. Perhaps because the three of them witnessed firsthand the rise and fall of Jax Teller and everything that happened between.
"I still can't believe Jax is gone," Tig finally says.
"Aye."
"Knew it was coming," Happy adds. "He was meant to meet Mayhem."
Chibs and Tig nod.
The men sit in silence. It has only been two weeks since Jax's suicide, and it's still very fresh on their mind. The former President had left them scrambling to regain their footing in the MC world as many of the other charters and Clubs had seen this as the Sons' world crumbling. Chibs had been able to hold on by a hair, had fought to prove the Sons of Anarchy were still relevant, and the other MC's are already realizing the Sons are going nowhere.
"Any news on Juice?"
Tig's voice cuts through Chibs' chest like a knife burrowing into his skin. "Aye. He's still alive."
"For how long?" questions Happy.
Chibs steels his voice. "Jax promised him a quick death. When it comes, it goes quick."
"Do we have any word on when it's going to happen?"
Chibs forces himself to shrug as if he doesn't care. He shakes his head, "Jax had contact with Tully. I'm sure it will happen soon."
"Tully?" Happy wonders. "The Aryan Brotherhood, right?"
"Yeah," replies Tig, "The big AB head-honcho Jax said was raping Juice."
Chibs clenches his fists under the table. He bites his tongue, forcing back everything that wants to come gushing forward. "Aye, him."
"Are we supposed to give him a go-ahead? The Rat deserves to die," adds Happy simply.
Again, Chibs shrugs. "I'm sure it's all been handled."
Happy and Tig nod in agreement and the subject changes to something else, but Chibs is hardly listening. He's craving Scotch, and his chest is hurting. Suddenly, he stands from the booth.
"I'll be headin' out."
"Alright, brother," says Tig who stands and gives him a hug.
Happy nods his head towards the Scot. "Later."
Chibs exits Scoops and Sweets and takes off down the sidewalk. He makes it several blocks before the pain in his chest becomes overwhelming. He feels like he's going to be sick and the panic punches him hard in the gut. He quickly fumbles a cigarette from his pocket, hands shaking as he lights it, and then he raises it to his lips to take a long drag. He clenches his eyes shut, breathing the smoke from his lips and nose.
"Fuck me," he murmurs under his breath.
He takes another long drag from the cigarette, then stubs it out with his boot. It's time to head home, he tells himself. Johnnie is calling his name.
xxx
Chibs bolts upright in his bed. His skin is soaked in sweat and the bangs of his salt-and-pepper hair are plastered to his forehead. The blanket is pooled around his bare waist, and his chest heaves as he breathes deeply trying to clear the nightmare from his head. He doesn't remember going to bed, but the empty glass on his nightstand suggests he'd taken his drink with him to the bedroom.
He turns the switch of the lamp on the nightstand hoping to find the bottle of Johnnie sitting near the glass, but the bottle isn't there. Probably still in the living room and away from his craving hands.
"Fuck me," he groans for the second time.
His head is pounding and it isn't even daylight yet. The face of his clock tells him it's only a little past four in the morning. It's too early for him to start the day, but the nightmare is still fresh on his mind and he isn't ready to return to sleep.
He sits back against the bed and rests his head against the headboard. He clenches his eyes shut, trying to edge away the throbbing his head, but the darkness only brings forth the nightmare.
An image of Juice flashes across his mind and Chibs lets out an involuntary cry of pain.
His glass is empty and his hands are empty and the amber liquid is gone and the nightmare is fresh.
The guilt is fresh, open, and deep.
He deserves it.
But the sober part of him doesn't believe his words.
Images of the nightmare pulse through his head. He's locked in a cell, hopelessly trapped as Juice lay crying on the bunk in front of him. He calls for Juice, trying to get his attention, but Juice can't hear him. The images shift, and then it's Tully standing over Juice, forcing himself on him. Chibs' yells, trying to get Tully away from him, but he can't move and Tully can't hear him.
He's forced to watch.
Every night he's forced to watch unless he can deaden his mind with the amber liquid that now flows through his body like the blood that keeps him alive.
Juice was his Prospect.
Chibs had made a rare cross-country trip to meet with their sister SAMNEW charter in New York. Clay had sent him alone as it was more of a courtesy meeting to keep their ties strong, and the club was in a time of peace. Chibs didn't mind the long distance like many of the other SAMCRO members, and in a way, he enjoyed the chance out on his own. Upon reaching New York, it was easy to see SAMNEW was still getting along just fine, and Chibs had the chance to explore the city before returning on the long trip home.
It was late one evening when he came across a sketchy bar in the middle of Queens. He was craving a beer, and the shady look of the bar didn't deter him. No one usually wanted to mess with a biker covered in tattoos, and the scars on his face only added to the intimidation. He parked his bike out front and pushed his way inside.
Inside the bar is where he'd first laid eyes on him, a scrawny kid from Queens with a stupid mohawk, an affinity for weed and the occasional other drug, and a passion for motorcycles. When Chibs walks into the bar, Juice is talking loudly in the center of the room about a motorcycle he'd just bought. Several other barflies are huddled around him, ooohing and ahhhing as they listen to him speak about his new ride.
Chibs can't help but smile, "Aye, ye like motorcycles, do ya?"
The boy jumps, and every eye in the bar turns to look at him. Chibs feels them soaking up the look of him-middle-aged biker clad in dark leather with a reaper MC cut, tattoos showing under his rolled up sleeves, and the scars carved into his cheeks. Most in the bar quickly turn away, seeming afraid, but the boy breaks out into a smile, a grin that could light the world.
Even now, Chibs can remember that smile, so full of innocence and happy wonder.
"Yeah!" the boy says excitedly. He stares at Chibs' cut with wide eyes, "Do you ride?"
"Aye, I do."
Chibs grabs a beer from the bartender, then seats himself across from the boy. Those who had been huddled around Juice quickly move away as if in fear of Chibs, leaving he and the boy alone at the table.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Juice," the boy answers, still grinning.
Chibs raises his eyebrows at him.
"Juan Carlos Ortiz," Juice adds, "But no one calls me that."
Chibs nods and takes a swig of his beer. "So what bike did ya buy?"
Juice grins sheepishly, "It's nothing special. Just a lower-end Harley I bought off a friend. It needs some work, but hey, it rides." He flashes Chibs the smile that's already becoming ever-so-common.
"Nothing wrong with gettin' ya firs' bike. A little work only makes ye appreciate it more when it's finished."
Juice nods his head. He hangs onto Chibs every word, admiration in his eyes. "So what's your name?" smiles Juice.
"Chibs."
He doesn't elaborate when Juice looks at him oddly, but this doesn't seem to faze the boy. Juice keeps smiling, "What are you doing in Queens? I've never seen you around here before."
"Business," answers Chibs gruffly. He doesn't care to expand on Club business.
Juice nods, seeing he's not going to get anywhere speaking about Chibs' personal life. The talk turns back to motorcycles, and several hours and beers later, the two are buzzed and enjoying their conversation. A friendship had already begun to form between them, and when the bartender ushers them and the remaining guests out at closing time, Chibs offers to show Juice his own bike. Juice follows Chibs from the bar, and his mouth falls open when his eyes land on Chibs' modded Harley parked in the lot.
"This is yours?" he breathes, eyes wide.
"Aye," Chibs answers, a glimmer in his eyes.
"Wow..." Juice circles the bike, staring in wonder. He slowly reaches out and gently caresses his fingers across the handlebars. He turns back to stare at Chibs, "One day I'm going to buy something like this."
Chibs smiles. He'd already begun to develop a fondness for the boy, but he still shocks himself when he speaks next. "Would ya like to ride it?"
Chibs never lets anyone ride his bike, especially not some kid from Queens he barely knows, but something about Juice's passion for motorcycles sparks the question.
Juice looks like he's about to faint from excitement. His eyes are wide as dinner plates, "Really?"
"Jus' around the parking lot," Chibs tells him, and then he growls, "And if ya try to steal it, I'll hunt ye down and chop off yer balls."
Something about the gruff tone of Chibs voice causes Juice to gulp. He doesn't doubt for a second that Chibs wouldn't do just that. "I promise I won't steal it," he says quietly.
Chibs hands him the key, and Juice takes it nervously. He stares at the bike in silent wonder, then slowly takes a seat. The engine purrs beneath him when he starts it, and Chibs watches as Juice's eyes light in childish excitement. Juice rides around the lot several times, and when he finally parks in front of Chibs, the older man can see Juice is reluctant to get off.
"What did I tell ya, boy?" he warns.
"I'm not going to steal it," replies Juice as he turns off the bike and climbs off. He stares at the motorcycle sadly. "I wish I could have something like this."
"One day," Chibs says as he takes the key back from Juice.
Juice shakes his head. "I'll never be able to afford something like this."
Chibs crosses his arms in front of his chest, "An' why is that? Ya know how to work, don'cha?"
"Yeah, but..."
"Save yer money, lad. It adds up. How do ye think I bought my firs' bike? I worked my arse off."
Juice nods, but he doesn't look any happier. He stares hungrily at Chibs' cut. "I just wish I could join a Club," he mumbles under his breath.
His words are quiet, and Chibs barely hears them, but the gears start turning in Chibs' head. It's been awhile since SAMCRO has had a Prospect, and something about Juice makes him wonder if the boy would be a good fit within the Club. Juice seems infatuated by motorcycles, and his sentiment towards wanting to join a Club shows he's not opposed to the MC lifestyle. And under all that, there's something about Juice that Chibs' can't quite put his finger on. His smile is contagious, and Chibs' feels almost lighter in his presence.
Finally, after a silence passes between them, Chibs speaks. "Ya ever thought about bein' a Prospect?"
Juice snaps to attention. The expression on his face is pleading, his eyes begging. "Yes! I...all I want is to join an MC." He stares back at Chibs' bike and smiles. "I just want to ride off on my bike and get out of this city. There's nothing for me here."
"Do ya understand what Club life is like? Do ye know what it's like to Prospect?"
"Yes, and I'd do anything to become a full member."
"Ya ever killed a man?"
Chibs' sudden blunt question causes Juice to jump. He watches the older man silently, turning words over in his mind. Finally, he answers honestly, "No."
Chibs nods, pleased Juice didn't lie to appear tough. "An MC is like a brotherhood. A family. In it, ye learn to love your brothers. Ya'd kill for them if ye have to, an' ya'd die for them to save them. Do ya think you could do that?"
"Yes." Juice's answer is quick, earnest.
"Good," Chibs growls. He climbs onto his bike and starts the engine beneath him. "Meet me here on that bike of yours tomorrow. Noon. I'll be headin' back to California." He stares Juice up and down. He's never sponsored a Prospect before, and beneath his tough exterior, he's nervous pulling Juice for the Club. Sponsoring him means he's responsible for the boy. If he screws up, it falls back on him. But something about the boy continues to grab is attention, and finally Chibs finishes, "If ye think ya can Prospect, ye can come with me."
Juice had been waiting for Chibs outside the bar at noon the next day, and Chibs was pleased he hadn't had to wait on the boy. Juice had been right though-his bike needed work, but it was at least able to carry him across the country. SAMCRO had given Chibs shit for bringing the boy though. Juice was nothing like the any of them, and they were afraid he wouldn't be cut out for the club. They were hard on him, but Chibs stood by his decision to sponsor him. Juice powered through everything they put him through without a single complaint, and within a year, he'd easily won them all over. Juice was dedicated to the Club. The Sons had become his life, and he wanted nothing more than to join their ranks. When it came time for them to vote, the vote was unanimous, and Juice was patched in with celebration.
Chibs had told him he was proud of him.
Juice smiled that wonderful smile and dawned his fully patched cut.
The Sons of Anarchy had become his home.
xxx
"Jesus, Chibs, you look like shit," Tig says as Chibs enters Scoops and Sweets.
Chibs had downed another half bottle of Scotch before he'd been able to go back to sleep that morning, and when he finally had woken at noon, his head felt like a sledgehammer had been beaten against it.
He pushes his dark sunglasses against his eyes to block out the bright light, then pushes past Tig to go upstairs to the Chapel. Tig stares wordlessly after him. Chibs had called him and Happy after he'd woken and commanded them to meet him at the clubhouse. He hadn't said why, but based on the urgent seriousness of his voice, the two Sons had rushed over. Now, they follow the Scot upstairs wondering what is going on.
"What's up, brother?" Happy asks as he and Tig take a seat on either side of Chibs.
Chibs' expression is unreadable, but he'd removed the sunglasses from his face and his eyes are bloodshot. He doesn't speak, and Tig starts getting a little worried. Normally Chibs has no problem speaking his mind.
"Did something happen?" Tig questions.
Chibs still doesn't speak. He steels his expression, clenching his fists on top of the table. He looks in pain, and his facade of no emotion starts to crumble. Finally, he stares at them both.
"We need to do somethin' about Juice."