"Filip." Chris whispered under her breath. She walked over to the man, crouching down beside his head, "Filip, I don't know if you can hear me, but weve got to get you fixed up now. You've got some sort of infection and we've got to get it under control."

No response from him.

"Okay Tig, Im going to need you to help me strip him down. We've got to make sure all of his wounds are accounted for and cleaned up." She said as she began cutting the shirt off of Filip, throwing it to the door behind her. She expected some quip from Tig about stripping down another man, but he must have been just as shocked as she was, because he began tugging off Filip's jeans without so much as a snarky comment.

When he was stripped down, even Tig seemed unnerved by what they saw. His whole body was riddled with bruises and gashes, many as deep or deeper than the ones on his face.

"Shit." They both said in unison.

"Shit, alright." Chris said as she took a deep breath and sprang into action. She decided to start by cleaning off his face. "Tig, you hold him down, if he starts to move. Otherwise, you start cleaning the rest of him." He nodded in agreement.

She moved the small bedside table between them, with the bowls of water and towels. She grabbed a rag and soaked it, wringing it out before moving to his face. "Seriously Tig, hold him down — hard, I don't know how he'll react to this." Tig nodded, with a look of seriousness behind his gaze that Chris rarely saw.

She brushed Filip's hair from his face, noticing for the first time how young he looked under all the hurt. She began clearing out the wounds. They'd obviously gone a few weeks without good tending to.

She worked slowly and methodically, making sure to be gentle, and to clean the dried filth away in steps. First soaking it for a few moments, then lightly wiping the towel over, removing what would come away easily. She repeated this several times, managing to get most of the crud off. She then soaked rags in warm saline, placing them over each cut and waiting for a moment while the saline drew out the infection, before removing them, and repeating the process until the rags came out mostly clean, and flushed them out with the saline.

With the bulk of it gone, she could see the crude stitch work that had been done on him. No wonder it got infected. With the neglect and the bad stitches, it was practically inviting infection.

She decided to take out the stitches, and thought about restitching it, but decided it was a better idea to leave it open and pack it, rather than trapping the infection in to fester more.

No sense in closing up an infected wound.

She started work on his torso, while Tig took care of his legs and kept changing out the water. She noted old scars, tattoos, bruised knuckles, and old breaks in fingers. A couple of bullet scars, noth in the abdomen, near the liver; one scar that looked like a stab wound, right between the ribs on the left side; marks and reminders of a hard life.

Jesus, how're you still alive?

Every inch of him was a mess, either broken, cut, swollen, bruised, or scarred.

They worked together in silence for quite some time. When Chris was satisfied that they'd not missed anything, she retrieved a new set of sheets from the closet, as well as a pair of sweats. Tig helped her change out the sheets, and they simply had to throw out the pillow that Filip had been lying on; it was soaked through with sweat and blood.

Chris had Tig get a couple of trash bags from the kitchen, ans went about stripping one of the remaining pillows from the bed, covering it with a trashbag before slipping a pillowcase on it.

They stepped back after going over him twice to make sure they hadn't missed anything. Tig helped her dress him in the sweatpants she had, and they got him settled onto the bed.

She looked at the clock on the wall, groaning. "Shiiittt." It was almost 5 in the afternoon, but to Chris is felt more like 2 in the morning.

"ughhhhh. I think it's time for me to get some sleep Tig."

He yawned right as she said it, "haha yeah, that's probably a good idea. You not sleep well last night either?" She shook her head, yawning as she grabbed the towels and rags they'd used and threw them in the pile of sheets by the door with Filip's clothes. Tig grabbed up the bowls and other supplies and carried them off, while she took the pile of laundry and threw it in the washer.

Tig met her back in the living room, where she was grabbing blankets and pillows out of the trunk and making up the couch for sleeping.

"Guess I'll take the couch" Tig murmered as he yawned again.

"Nah, I'll take the couch. You go ahead and take my room."

"Chrissy…" a concerned glance came over his face.

"I'll be fine Tiggy, what's he going to do?" She tried to reassure him, "I'll holler if I need you, okay?"

He sighed, "Fine, but if he hurts you, I'll kill him myself." He gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Yessir, Mr. Mayhem." She saluted him as he walked away into her room, throwing up his middle finger at her as he disappeared around the corner.

She went to call the dogs in from the yard, and closed the back door behind them. It wasn't quite time for their dinner, but she figured that they really wouldn't mind eating early. She poured their food and grabbed a protein bar for herself, realizing that she'd not eaten since the day before.

She turned out the lights in the living room, and collapsed onto the couch. She pulled a blanket over her head to block out the remnants of daylight that were still coming in from outside. She felt one of the dogs — she assumed Harley — slowly crawl up with her, and wedge his way between her and the back of the couch, and then she was out.

#############################################

She woke when the dogs stirred. She heard noises coming from Filip's room. She walked into his room; he was gasping and shaking fiercely, covered in sweat once more.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit

"Tig! Tig get in here now!" She stripped the sweatpants off of him. He was burning up.

"Jesus." Tig had come stumbling into the room, still trying to blink the sleep from his eyes.

"Go get the bucket from the garage and fill it up with ice." He stared at her. "Go — NOW!"

He sort of shook awake, and then ran off. She ran to the bathroom across the hall and turned on the cold water in the tub. She grabbed some rubbing alcohol from under the sink and dumped half the bottle into the water, hoping to keep any bacteria in the tub at bay. She ran back into the room right as Tig was coming back with the bucket.

"Go dump that in the bathtub." Tig headed to the bathroom as she ran to grab her phone from the living room, dialing Clay.

What the hell is going on?! She thought as the line was ringing. God, Clay, pick up! Pick up!

"What the hell's going on?" Clay's voice on the other end.

"Oh thank God. Clay, it's the scotsman, there's something wrong with him. He needs a doctor."

There was complete silence on the other end of the line.

"What should I do?" She was panicking. She could stitch guys up, but she couldn't deal with this without a professional.

"Just sit tight, do what you can. I'll get someone to you."

She hung up without replying, setting the phone on the bed next to Filip.

She touched her hand to Filip's forehead. "Fucking shit." He was burning up. Hot.

"What do we need to do?" Tig was back in the room.

"Help me get him into the tub."

She went to his feet as Tig went to grab his shoulders.

"Ready?" He nodded. "Go." They lifted him up, and all she could notice as they shuffled him out of the room was how hot his skin was. He didn't even stir when they moved him, just kept shivering and moaning.

Tig hesistated as they got to the bathroom, "You sure about this?"

Chrissy sighed, "Honestly, no, but if we don't get his fever down he'll die anyways. This is all I can think to do." He nodded at her, and they put him into the tub. Chris was barely able to turn of the knob before he came to, as he gasped and started thrashing in the tub.

She knelt down beside him, "Hey hey hey, easy now." She talked to him like she was talking to one of her horses when they were spooked, "Easy. Just try and relax. Look at me, look at me." He took a second of wildly looking around before his eyes focused desperately on her own, and though he was looking right at her, Chris could tell that he wasn't really seeing her.He was shaking, and struggling to catch his breath.

She cupped under his chin in her hands, "Filip, look at me."

For a long moment, they stared at one another, Filip's face twitching in pain with each gasp he drew, those dark eyes of his, holding a tortured and twisting expression.

Before she could think anymore into it, he seemed to collapse into himself, and his breathing became desperate as he clutched at his chest. Water pooled out of the tub as he sank further into it.

"What the hell is happening?!"Chris had forgot Tig was even in the room.

"I don't know!" She stared down at Filip in horror as he completely froze, taking a few gasps as his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Shit!" Chris raised his head out of the water, checking for a pulse, and didn't find one.

"Chrissy, he's not fucking breathing!"

She sat there, glued to the floor.

"Chris what the fuck do we do?!"

"Fuck!" She flew into motion, grabbing Filip under the arms and heaving him out of the tub on top of her, soaking herself and the entire floor. Tig helped move her out from under him, and she whipped around and straddled his waist. She started doing compressions on his chest, and hoped to God she remembered her CPR training well enough for this to work.

She wasn't sure if she didn exactly how many compressions she was supposed to before she breathed. She didn't really care either. She just did what felt right, whatever that was.

You are not about to die on me! Not him, not anyone; not again.

Finally, his chest heaved as he took in a breath, and she slid off onto her feet beside him as he coughed, coming back to them.

"Thank God." She heard Tig breathe out next to her. She leaned into him, and he put his arms around her and held her close. "You okay?"

"Yeah" she sighed heavily as she turned and pressed her forehead into his neck, "Yeah, I'm good."

He leaned his head down to meet hers, "You did great…saved his life."

She closed her eyes and put her full weight into him, trying to drown out for a moment breathing of the man on the floor. Tig gathered her tightly against his chest, and she listened to the thudding of his heart — strong and steady — letting it lull her, as the pounding of her own heart finally began to quiet.

Chris spoke after a moment, "Okay, we need get him back into the bed."

"What about his fever?" Tig spoke softly to her, but she could hear his voice deep in his chest.

"Fuck it. I don't know what else to do. We obviously can't do that again." She pushed up reluctantly from Tig, and they both got up, and Chris grabbed a towel from under the sink and draped it over her shoulder, "You got his shoulders again?"

"Yeah." Tig sighed, stooping over and grabbing under Filip's shoulders.

"Alright then, on three." They lifted him up and got him back into the bedroom, and Chris had Tig hold him up as best he could while she dried him off and slid the sweatpants back on him. They got him back into bed, and Tig's phone rang and he went out into the hall.

Filip was still shivering, and his breath was still coming in tight, nearly imperceptible gasps. She sat on the other side of the bed near him while Tig took the call.

She lightly traved her fingers up and down Filip's arm, careful to avoid any injuries. She leaned her head back onto the headboard, wishing she had her grandda here to help her. She was tired of being everyone's rock; of being the person that had to be strong for other people.

For once, she wanted someone to be strong for her.

Tig's voice broke her out of her thoughts. "That was Clay. Says he's sending up one of Piney's old war buddies. Says he's a doc from some podunk town up North." He said, trying to take a jab at her, knowing she was protective of her small-town roots.

"Watch it Tiggy." She said with a smirk as she yawned.

"Want me to stay in here with him while you grab some more sleep?" He looked at his phone, "It's only midnight, we could take shifts watching him."

"No—" she yawned, "I think I'm going to sleep in the chair in here, in case anything else happens."

"Chrissy…"

"I'll be okay Tiggy. He can't do anything, and even if he could, I've got two 'scary' watchdogs and a 'big bad biker' in the next room." Tig narrowed his eyes at her, but then softened. "Okay, but you get me immediately if something happens."

She chuckled, "Yes sir, 'dad'."

He groaned, "Oh come on, I'm not that much older than you."

"Older is older Tig."

He walked out of the room. "Goodnight, brat." He called on his way out.

"Goodnight, dad!" She hollered after him. His head appeared from behind the door frame and he stuck his tongue out at her before quickly retreating.

Big bad biker indeed. She laughed to herself.

She climbed out of the bed and into the chair, setting her feet up on the bed. Filip seemes a bit calmer than earlier, but he only took in small, quick breaths, as if his lungs were fighting giving up.

She sighed as she settled further into the chair, "Please be okay."

She wasn't sure why, but she needed to know about this man. She wanted to know what made him laugh, what made him hurt, what movies he liked— who he was, what had happened to him, the life he'd led that left him with all those scars.

His eyes, and his past, so familiar yet foreign to her.

It was all she could think about as she drifted off to sleep.