A/N: don't own don't sue

Lyrics at the beginning are from 'Baptized' by Daughtry

Set after Season One, before Abel is kidnapped and Gemma is raped and Jax turns into a jerk and the whole club hates each other. Generally back when the show had fun and all the coolest characters were still alive. Because I can, it's called artistic license.

Learn My Lesson

Chapter Twelve

It's safe to say I'm lost
Without you in my arms
So I call your name and I pray you might
Come and watch over me like the pale moonlight
Until the sun comes back around
Take me down, take me down by the water, water
Pull me in until I see the light
Let me drown, let me drown, in you honey, honey
In your love I wanna be baptized
Take me down, take me down by the water, water
I wanna be baptized
And the days and nights are cold
Without your body to hold
So I close my eyes hoping you'll appear
'Cause it feels like grace every time you're near, yeah
Don't leave, until the sun comes back around
Take me down, take me down by the water, water
Pull me in until I see the light
Let me drown, let me drown, in you honey, honey
In your love I wanna be baptized

Chibs loved his brothers, he really did, but no one could drink like the Irish. They'd bribed the bar owner to keep the drinks flowing long after last call and it had been quite some time since he'd been quite this drunk. O'Grady and McGarrett were swaying like trees in a gale, arms around each other's shoulders as they weaved out of the bar singing an old Irish folk song at the top of their lungs in mumbled Celtic. Chibs followed them, zig-zagging across the parking lot and wondering why it was so dark. He stumbled down the curb and nearly face-planted the ground, just managing to catch his balance using a parked car for leverage. The Irish were way ahead of him still hollering, causing curtains to twitch irritably in the windows lining the parking lot. Chibs miss-stepped again as he searched his jeans pockets for the motel door key, tripping over the dirty Welcome mat and smacking his forehead into the flimsy wooden door. It took him a while but he eventually managed to get the key into the lock and turn the doorknob. Unfortunately he didn't see the chain pulled across and, expecting the door to swing open easily, he cracked his nose on the door with enough force to send him stumbling backwards onto his butt. He was swearing, loudly and extensively, when the door slammed shut, the chain rattled and it swung open bathing him in dim light from the bedside lamp. He peered bleary-eyed up at Naomi, blood dribbling from his nose over his mouth and chin and spotting his shirt.

"Whatcha put the chain on for?" He slurred messily.

"I didn't think you were coming back." She said coolly, folding her arms over her chest and studying him irritably.

She was faintly flushed from sleep, her hair a bedraggled halo falling out of its messy topknot over her bare shoulders. Chibs stared hungrily through the haze of alcohol his brain was currently pickling in. Her long legs were bare under grey shorts panties, her white vest top clinging to her upper body. From his position sprawled at her feet, he could see the dark green nail polish on her toes, the slender black thread tied around her ankle.

"It's nearly five am." She snapped, marching towards him and snatching his sunglasses off his face. "Where the hell have you been? I was worried sick. I thought they'd put a bullet in you and dumped your worthless hide in a ditch."

Chibs was swimming through a haze of alcohol, trying to follow her rapidly fired statements. It was difficult, even in his intoxicated condition she was very distracting in her half-naked state.

"Come on, darlin'-" He tried, the syllables tripping off his tongue awkwardly.

"Don't you 'come on, darlin'' me." Naomi hissed, grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet.

He wobbled and she steadied him, holding both of his arms until he caught his balance. She pushed him into the motel room, closing the door and slipping the chain back on. She dumped him on the end of the bed, kneeling in front of him to assess the damage. Her face softened slightly when she saw the bruises already forming on his face from his multiple run-ins with the door. She swiped blood from his lips with the back of her hand, her thumb brushing his lower lip.

"Christ, look at the state of you." She sighed, torn between amusement and anger. "Come on."

She unlaced his boots and stripped him of his cut and weapons. He let her strip him down, following her murmured instructions quite docilely until she had him tucked into bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.


By the time Chibs stirred it was almost noon and his head felt like someone had used it for target practice with a concrete baseball bat. He groaned, rolling away from the splash of sunlight that had woken him. His stomach revolted at the sudden movement and he lurched out of bed, scrambling over his discarded boots and diving headfirst into the bathroom. He was still moaning piteously over the toilet bowl when Naomi sauntered in looking ridiculously chipper.

"Good morning, sunshine." She trilled cheerfully, leaning over and wafting a coffee under his nose.

Chibs growled at her, swiping her hand out of the way. She shrugged, perching on the edge of the distinctly grubby looking bathtub and sipping her own coffee.

"My my, don't we look rather the worse for wear?" She snorted in amusement as Chibs clung onto the toilet, praying for the nausea to pass.

"Fuck off." Chibs snarled.

She laughed.

"Well, I hope you enjoyed your shenanigans last night, because the Irish are up and raring to go."

Chibs closed his eyes, hearing the satisfied pleasure she was taking in his suffering filtering through her voice. He knew he probably deserved it. She had been waiting for him all night, worrying about his safety. Not to mention the hint she'd dropped that he'd rejected, again. He felt guilt burning in the base of his gut, overwhelming the nausea. What if something had happened to her last night while he'd been pounding shots with the Irish, avoiding her bed because he knew he couldn't trust himself with her?

"Come on. Get it together, dude." Her voice was a little kinder this time as she handed him a glass of water fizzing over with Alka-Seltzer and the coffee. "I managed to stall the Irish for now but they want to head out."

Chibs gingerly sipped the black coffee, squinting at her suspiciously. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh please. They merely think you spent the best part of this morning bouncing me off the headboard." She grinned devilishly. "So get up and pull your shit together before they get suspicious." She paused on her way out of the bathroom, sticking her head back inside and wrinkling up her nose. "And for the love of god, take a shower."


Chibs had never felt his age as much as he did that afternoon. The shower, the coffee, the Alka-Seltzer only made his hangover hurt more and he was bitterly regretting ever laying eyes on the goddamn Irish. He staggered into the bedroom in the clean clothes Naomi had left for him, squinting against the sunlight.

"You look like hell." Naomi laughed, pushing him onto the end of the bed.

Chibs opened his mouth to argue but she handed him his sunglasses and his jaw snapped shut with reluctant gratitude. Naomi combed his wet hair as he sipped on another cup of coffee and tried to keep it down. The door thundered and rattled in its flimsy frame and Naomi jumped, the comb flying out of her hand and disappearing under the bed. Chibs scoured the room for his gun, cursing himself for getting into this state.

"What are ya doin'?!" He snarled as Naomi crossed the small room and took the chain off the door.

She ignored him completely, pulling open the door and leaning against the frame blocking Chibs's view of the intruder.

"Room service?" Naomi asked teasingly.

"Maybe later, darlin'." O'Grady's voice was rough from the drinking session but otherwise was as friendly as he ever got and Chibs relaxed a fraction.

"Well he's here, safe and sound." Naomi laughed, moving away from the doorway.

O'Grady followed her into the room, a leer on his face as he lifted his eyebrows at Chibs. Chibs scowled, not liking the look on the Irishman's face as his eyes followed her around the room. Too busy suffering earlier, he only now realised that Naomi was parading around the room in nothing but her underwear and his t-shirt, which was a good deal too short on her for public consumption in his opinion.

"Play nice, boys." She said sweetly, sauntering into the bathroom and closing the door.

After a few moments the shower switched on and O'Grady turned to Chibs with a chuckle.

"What a piece of arse." He whistled appreciatively.

For the first time since he'd woken up, Chibs was not regretting his hangover because it gave him an excuse to ignore the Irishman's vulgar jokes about Naomi and the state of the rumpled bed. O'Grady frowned suddenly, peering closely at Chibs, who suddenly became aware of his tender nose. O'Grady's face split into a leering grin and he laughed out loud, quite clearly imagining what they could have been doing that caused it.

"Let's go." Chibs growled, lacing up his boots with some difficulty and lurching to his feet. "Lemme just…" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the bathroom door.

O'Grady lifted an eyebrow but, if he found it odd that Chibs had something to say to his random lay the morning after, he chose not to comment. Chibs pushed open the bathroom door, slightly wary at what might greet him. Naomi was sitting cross-legged on the toilet seat with a tattered magazine in her lap, still in his t-shirt and twirling a lock of hair around her finger. Chibs hurriedly closed the door before O'Grady could see her.

"Are you okay?" She asked immediately, tossing aside the magazine.

Chibs felt his mouth curl into a smile at her evident concern and she flushed, confused by his sudden smile and distracted by how attractive he was even with red eyes and hollow cheeks from his morning hurling session.

"Aye, lass."

The bathroom was full of steam from the still running shower, beading her bare arms and legs and curling her damp hair.

"Don't worry, I won't leave the room." She said glumly, rolling her eyes.

"You'll be here when I get back." He said firmly, pushing her hair away from her face and caressing her earlobe with his thumb.

"Yes sir." She mocked him, even as she cocked her head closer into the curve of his palm. "Be careful."

"Just a run." He shrugged, tracing his fingertip along the line of her jaw. "Rather stay here."

Her eyebrows flew up and her mouth curved, her eyes glittering.

"Off you go." She caught his hand in hers, brushing her lips briefly over his calloused fingertips and pushing him back a step in the tiny bathroom.

Chibs pouted but even over the noise of the shower they could both hear O'Grady on the phone through the flimsy wall. Chibs leaned towards her, his mouth against hers and his hands in her hair. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, something lurking under the nausea of his hangover. She clung to him for a moment, before letting him go.

"Go on."

He gave her a last lingering glance over his shoulder, before shoving open the door and trudging after the Irishman.


Christ, Chibs was rough. Barely a few hours of sleep on top of the hangover from hell had not made for a good mood following around the Irish as they met various nefarious types and fat whores. The sun had already gone down as Chibs trudged across the car park with a bag full of fast food and some tacky horror DVDs he knew Naomi would love. He cursed as he approached their room and saw the slightly open door, assuming she'd left it on the chain to punish him again for being gone all day.

"Goddamn woman's gonna be the death of me." He muttered under his breath, raising one hand to bang on the door.

The bag of food dropped from his hands, the DVDs bouncing up and clattering against the curb noisily. Chibs nudged the door open with the fingers of one hand, his gun extended ahead of him. The door squeaked open, the broken lock and handle dangling sadly. The room was relatively tidy; the bed covers a little rumpled where she'd clearly been sitting, scattered magazines littering the bed. The TV was still playing but someone had muted it and the light it cast flickered crazily over the dark room. Chibs checked the wardrobe, under the bed and the bathroom. There was no blood or sign of a struggle anywhere which was something. Maybe she'd just gone somewhere for dinner he hoped wildly, his pulse thundering in his throat. A tiny red light distracted him and he turned. A cigarette was burning on the windowsill, the ash barely a few centimetres down the paper. Whatever had happened, it had happened minutes ago. Chibs barged through the door with such force the hinges cracked and the door slipped out of its frame.

The guy behind the desk at the motel was snoring loudly enough to wake the dead, his head tilted back and his mouth wide open. Chibs kicked his feet off the desk and he jerked in his chair, his chin bouncing off the desk and splitting open his lip.

"Wha' the fuck?!" He slurred, blood dribbling down his chin as he clapped a meaty hand over his mouth.

"You're gonna find the footage of this afternoon and show me what just happened to the gal I was with."

The guy goggled at him with wide eyes. Chibs retrieved the gun from his jeans. If it were at all possible, the guy's eyes popped open even wider. Chibs knew the motel had a few well-placed cameras around, he'd planned to use the footage to keep track of the Irish's movements when they thought he'd retired for the night. The guy stared at Chibs in horror until the gun kick-started his brain cells again. He scrambled out of the chair and into the backroom. Chibs followed him, watching as he sorted through the footage with shaking hands. Chibs watched over his shoulder, the gun resting on the guy's fat shoulder. He scanned the screen for signs of Naomi.

"There!" He barked, jabbing his finger at the black and white images on the screen.

The guy jumped about a foot in the air and the screen went fuzzy as his chubby elbow hit a button. Chibs snarled until he managed to find the right part again. Chibs scanned the tiny screen intently, watching as someone knocked on their door. The door didn't open but the curtain twitched minutely and Chibs felt a flicker of pride. Maybe they were rubbing off on her after all, when she'd first arrived she'd have just yanked open the door without thinking. The guy seemed to be talking through the door, apparently trying to convince her to open the door. She was having none of it from what they could tell from the silent movie. His stomach plummeted when the burly guy gave up the delicate approach, put one foot on the door and kicked. The flimsy lock gave immediately. Pure white hot rage splashed over him as Naomi was dragged out of the room. The guy must have struck her because she wasn't struggling; she seemed to be unconscious as he draped her against his shoulder, one arm around her waist to support her. They disappeared off the edge of the screen and Chibs jabbed the gun into the guy's cheek.

"Find their car." The man mumbled something and Chibs used the base of the gun to crack his nose open. "Now."

The guy burst into tears and Chibs gritted his teeth. It took too long to find the footage of the van they'd parked on the very edge of the camera's field of vision, and Chibs could feel the minutes trickling away putting more distance between himself and Naomi. When he had the license plate he dialed Juice, leaving the sniveling guy cradling his broken nose and busted lip.

"I need everything on this van." He demanded the instant Juice answered and he relayed the license plate. "Don't argue with me, lad!" He snarled as Juice broke out into nervous prattling about something chaotic going on at the clubhouse. "Just do it."

He paced the confines of their small room as he waited for Juice to get back to him, his heart hammering painfully and hot lava-like anger pounding in his stomach. This was his fault. He should never have brought her with him. How could he think he could juggle her safety and his business for the club? If Clay found out he'd skin him alive. If they laid a finger on her… His still hungover stomach revolted at the idea and he had to force his nausea back down. He dropped down onto the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands over his face and almost enjoying the pain the gun caused as it scraped his scars. What was he going to do?