Just a short story (maybe a one shot, maybe more) that a dear friend requested. I thought I would hate it, but it turned out I actually kind of like it. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

Tig was in a hurry. His house was an absolute mess and he was doing everything he could to get it in order and make that it was safe and comfortable place. He only had a few minutes, and he had to stop at the store before he headed back. He had left her alone, and he didn't like it even one bit. She wasn't quite stable yet, and she needed him.

"Fuck it," Tig muttered, as he tossed the condom wrappers and the dead plant in the garbage. The place was far from perfect, but it would have to do. He could finish cleaning later, when she was asleep, or maybe make one of the Prospects clean in a few days, when he could finally take her out and show her off a bit.

He grabbed his bag and mounted his Dyna, before pulling out of his driveway. His rate of speed was probably slightly unreasonable, but anybody who had a problem with it could go fuck themselves. He had to get back to his girl. He made an extremely short pit stop at the local grocery store before heading back to the Club house. He didn't want to be away from her for longer than absolutely necessary.

He was beginning to worry. Tig knew that she would be okay. Chibs had looked her over and assured him that she would be fine. The Scot had given her some pain killers and told Tig to just let her sleep it off and have her take it easy for a few days. Don't worry, Chibs had said. I'll look after her. This was easier said than done. It wasn't that he didn't trust his brother when he said he would take care of her. He did. Shit was just piled so high already and she wasn't first on anyone's docket. Except his.

Tig didn't slow down until he reached Teller-Morrow. He parked his bike and climbed off, eager to get inside and check in on her. He noticed Chibs, perched atop the picnic table, hunched over and smoking a cigarette, his phone in hand. He figured that the Sargent at Arms could probably give him an update on his girl, so he checked in there first.

"Hey brother," Tig greeted. "She okay?"

Chibs sighed heavily. "Your girl is fine, Tigger. Told you she would be fine."

""Well, I worry," Tig retorted indignantly.

"Yeah," Chibs said shortly. He knew that his brother was on edge right now; hell, the whole Club was. Chibs especially, though. Galen and his henchmen had pretty much promised blood. Tig's girl might have been in rough shape, but at least she was right here and Tig could keep an eye on her and make sure she was safe. Not everybody had that luxury.

Tig laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Thanks for taking care of her, Chibs. I owe you, brother."

Chibs actually cracked a half smile. "You don't owe me shite. Go see your girl."

Tig didn't need to be told twice. He grinned at his brother before making his way through the metal door and into the Club house. The interior was dimly lit, as usual, and there seemed to be a perpetual foggy, smoky mist in the air, even though nobody was currently smoking. In fact, hardly anybody was even here. The fat Prospect, Filthy Phil, was behind the bar, wiping down glasses, and the snores coming from the back bedroom told him that one of his brothers was crashed out in the apartment. Tig had no idea where everybody else was, probably either at their respective homes or at Diosa, but it didn't really matter much to him where anybody else was. He was only here to see her.

He looked over at Filthy Phil, and before Tig could even speak, the behemoth of a man solemnly nodded toward the sofa, all at once answering the unasked question that hung in the air. Tig gave a short nod of thanks to the younger man and then headed across the room, glad to finally be here. He knew that he and the Prospect would never speak of this, wouldn't have any long, drawn out conversations about it, but Tig knew that the man understood, and for that, he was thankful.

He found his girl lying across the couch. He took a moment to just look at her. She looked calm and peaceful and free of pain, another thing to be thankful for. She was snoring softly as she slept, and her light hair was a stark contrast to the black couch. There was absolutely no doubting that his girl was beautiful. He knelt next to the couch, not wanting to disturb her, but once he was there, level with her, he found that he couldn't stop himself from reaching out and running a hand over her head, just to make sure she was really there.

All at once, the soft snoring stopped and Tig knew that he had woken her. Slowly, she opened an eye and gazed at him. Her eyes were blue and they had this way of seeing Tig; seeing him like nobody had seen him in a very long time. It both unnerved and delighted him, reminding him all at once of how incredibly vulnerable and human he was.

"Hey there," he said softly. "You feeling a little bit better now?"

Instead on answering, she leaned into his hand, still resting against her face. It felt good to know that he was offering her comfort.

"Yeah, you're going to be just fine, you hear me? Chibs patched you up and I got you everything you need. You're going to come and stay with me, at my place. This place isn't good for you, you will be better off at home, at least you will be once I get it cleaned up," he told her.

Her response was to lick his hand before she turned and stretched out. She trusted him to take care of her and knew that nothing would happen to her, not while he was here, so she closed her eyes again and let sleep overtake her.

Tig carefully lifted the sweet dog off of the sofa, cradling her as if she was a small child. He headed towards the door of the Club house and was surprised to find the massive form of Phil in front of him, holding the door open. The man followed him out of the Club house, where he saw that Chibs was still keeping vigil on the picnic table.

"I'm taking her home, man," Tig told him.

"Aye," Chibs nodded, reaching a hand out and petting the dog's soft fur. "Take good care of her. Call me if you need anything."

Tig nodded and headed across the lot, Filthy Phil still trailing along behind him. The Prospect opened the door for him and watched as he made sure she was comfortable. He took the keys from the Prospect and climbed into the driver's seat, starting the van.

"Hey Tig?" Filthy Phil said, his voice timid and unsure. "What are you going to call her?"

Tig looked at him for a minute, before glancing in the rearview mirror at the dog curled up in the back. Out here in the light of day, with the sun peeking through the tinted windows, her fur didn't quite look white; instead, it looked more…blonde.

Tig laughed out loud, before answering. "Kozik. Her name is Kozik."

I couldn't help it. I am a huge dog lover!