Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story.
Three Princes
A sequel to "Intended"
Chapter 55
Getting Tig's dinner was easy. Joss had peeled off the slashed and hacked Swan Lake dress and thrown on her usual oversized SAMCRO T-shirt and had Tig sitting at the dining room table with hot food in front of him within ten minutes. They hardly used their dining room, until recently…the kitchen just wasn't one of Joss's favorite places to be right now. Luckily cooking for Tig hadn't required her to be in there for very long. He was such an easy keeper in that aspect, perfectly happy with his beer, left over barbeque pulled pork that Joss had microwaved, some saltine crackers and a bottle of hot sauce. The conversation however, wasn't quite as convenient.
"I know you don't want to," Joss said, her voice full of sympathy, because she understood, she truly did, this was not Tig's thing, nor his strength. "But Gemma had something there with writing our own vows. I mean, who better to tell everyone about what you and I have than us ourselves?" He'd done some experimenting earlier tonight in the presence of Lauren and Chucky, putting his arm around Joss, and Joss did understand how hard that was for her man…so what she was asking of him now…well, she'd might as well take him back up onto the clubhouse roof and ask him to fly away with the pigeons and seagulls. But they had to do this; the club had to hear it.
Tig's screwed up face did all his whining for him, teeth grinding behind the flat line of his lips, mustache twitching as his clear, blue eyes burned like lasers at Joss. "No."
It was the third time in the course of this discussion that he'd said that and Joss would have questioned why she continued trying to convince him if it hadn't been for Tig failing to put the usual moratorium on the topic the way he always did when he didn't want to discuss it…at least, he hadn't done that yet. Hmm, why hadn't he done that? Joss looked at him good and hard, examining everything from his posture to his movements; his big shoulders were pushed out in a "don't mess with me" kind of stance that was actually normal for him, but he was still, not poised to strike or hovering on the edge of anything; nothing really communicated how much he wanted this conversation to be over. He hadn't even so much as raked the pulled pork together in a big lump on his plate and then stuck his fork in it, done. He wasn't writing vows…he'd said that a lot…but what did that really mean? "Okay," Joss said, more to herself than to Tig and she nodded once in some state of crucial comprehension. "What ideas do you have, then?"
Tig set his fork down as well as the half eaten cracker that was in his other hand. He looked at her like he was bracing for her to disagree with what he had to say. "It's not what you think we should do." He warned, but for the most part he was calm, not overly annoyed, just the usual.
"Obviously," Joss kind of smiled, smoothing things over, trying to tell him it was okay, go ahead and say it, she was open to whatever he wanted to do. She looked at him like he was the God that he was to her, brilliant blue eyes peering out from the miles, not the years, which showed on his face…her man, cool, dangerous, sexy, mysterious and strange…all over solid in ways that other men would never even understand. He was the man that loved her so damn much he was always going to be afraid of it. That's why he wouldn't write wedding vows; there was opening this up a little, and there was letting too much crazy out, and their love was crazy. Crazy was good though, Joss had never been so sure of that as she was now; crazy couldn't be stopped, crazy had no fear, crazy kept enemies at bay, made them afraid to even try to fight because there was no strategy against a foe with no boundaries. Tig…he likely needed some comfort right about now, and Joss knew how to give it. "What do you want to do, War Machine?"
She watched as her voice stroked softly over him like a loving hand and Tig pushed his chair away from the table, turning towards her. "C'mere." He ordered with a beckoning finger and Joss eagerly stepped forward, not surprised, but elated when Tig hooked her gently around her hip and pulled her down onto his knee, situating her around so they could look eye to eye. He was getting more used to touching her again and being touched by her, even though she knew that their closeness so often left things rearing and raging within him that could only be bedded down by one thing…that he still wouldn't take from her despite how much she insisted she'd be okay. But she would be, somehow, Joss knew she was ready, her body had healed; being with her man would only make her stronger, not weaker. She needed him…that thing in the freezer…no, if she started down that alien path then she wouldn't hear and understand what Tig was about to tell her.
She sighed a happy sigh, which wasn't difficult or even forced sitting here with him like she was, and placed her hand over the one Tig was resting against her thigh. "This is about the club, right?" He asked her, not reacting to the way Joss was slowly melting into him; he had something to say that she was going to hear. She nodded at him, following along word for important word. "Then anything we say, we say it to the club. This isn't going to be like the same shit we did before," he told her, the direct way he said it and the command in his voice revealing that Tig had a plan, that he knew what this wedding was going to be and what it was not going to be, and he wouldn't be swayed from it. "You just show up Saturday ready to climb on the back of the bike and roll with me, it'll all fall into place from there. Your half of this is dresses and flowers and making shit look good. My half is the club, Joss." He paused, his next words would be stern she could tell, but the way his hand rubbed her thigh tenderly let her know she'd done nothing wrong. "Yeah, you're the next queen, little girl, and you're going to be like nothing anyone has ever seen, I know you will be, but…the club is mine, not yours, mine! What has to be done for it will always be on me, not you."
Wow…Joss had of course known that, but somewhere in the rush and chaos of all these weddings, she'd maybe lost sight of that. She wanted what was best for the club, but in doing so, she began to see that she was over-nurturing, tying SAMCRO to her apron strings and trying to pack it some nutritious lunch of vows and words that were Tig's to make and say. But Tig didn't need her to do that, he knew his place and he knew the duty ahead of him, he'd do whatever he had to do for SAMCRO, Joss could communicate well within the club, but for Tig that language was his mother tongue, he knew what the club had to hear, and he knew how to tell them.
All of a sudden the reason for Tig's sour attitude at every wedding planning session around Gemma's dining room table became clear. Joss thought it was all about how he hated the style of wedding Gemma was planning for them that made Tig bulk and buck the way he did, and yes, there was a fair share of that in Tig's defiance, but even more so was that Tig wouldn't have anyone else interpreting what he knew he meant and what he felt, to his club. He'd be the kind of leader that would always be honest with his club, he'd tell them the truth, good or bad, and he'd be there with them throughout all of it. Wow…just when Joss thought she'd never underestimate her man again, she did. She'd been nodding like a bobble-head placed on the dashboard of a Jeep, but finally she got control of herself, refocusing on Tig's eyes that stared at her with torrential conviction. "Tig," her hand left its place over his so that she could press both her palms against his thrumming heart…so strong and in its own way, so pure. "I'm sorry, I owe you a lot more credit than what I—"
"Stop!" He demanded, not letting her finish and his arm loosed from around her, prompting her to stand up. He wasn't going to let her apologize, because there was nothing to apologize for; he didn't feel that she'd somehow fallen short, even if Joss did herself. But she'd just learned how not to do it again where Tig and his club were concerned. "You love me?" He asked her as her feet hit the floor, and he leaned casually on the table top now with one arm, wanting to bring a sweeter close to this than "stop!"
Joss smiled, she knew what questions like that meant…he'd told her she'd be a queen the likes of which was yet to be seen, he had so much faith in her. "I love you," she replied, wishing so hard that he'd pull her possessively close and grunt with desires he intended on fulfilling…she needed her man, "a little more each day." She bent down and kissed his mouth, her hands on his hard deltoids, but Tig steeled himself and wouldn't put what he usually did into the kiss, still abiding by the fear that he'd hurt her.
"Good," he almost whispered, catching the collar of her shirt and holding her close enough to kiss her again, but there was still nothing much in it, and all too soon, he'd let her go. "Now go eat something. I hate it when I think you don't eat." And he turned back to his pulled pork, twisting off the little cap on the bottle of hot sauce and shaking some more out over the meat he'd piled onto a cracker like his dinner had never been interrupted. "I got too many crackers here, get your olives and cheese and that…hoo-mush shit you like and come out here with me."
"It's hummus," Joss corrected with a laughing smile but started into the kitchen as Tig whined an annoyed "whatever, it looks like cat puke" behind her that Joss shook off with another laugh; Tig wanted her company, however he chose to say so. Him and his worries…he didn't like it when he thought she didn't eat…the goofball…he'd never be comfortable with her being vegetarian, but at least he wasn't trying to force feed her pulled pork…this time. But Joss was hungry; she'd been so caught up in the dress debacles all day that she hadn't had time to eat...hmm, maybe Tig was right to worry this time? That was okay, she was going to eat now, but hoo-mush wasn't going to cut it, she was beginning to realize how hungry she was the more into the kitchen she got. Hmm, she had broccoli and cheese whole grain Lean Pockets in the freezer! Yeah! Not only did that sound good, but it would look more substantial to Tig than her usual olives and hummus.
Without a thought Joss grabbed the freezer door handle, already thinking how she'd have to move the ice trays around because they were sitting on top of her Lean Pockets. She hadn't been cooking very much lately; the freezer reflected that, it was crowded with dinners she hadn't been able to make for Tig. Damn, she held two ice trays in one hand, and a pot roast in the other, trying to shift stuff around enough with the piece of meat so that she could set something down without it tumbling out onto the floor while she grabbed her dinner. Her bags of frozen vegetables squished easily into the corner, the packages of chicken wings and turkey legs flipped up on their sides, but there was still this one thing that wouldn't budge, something in a rounded, plastic container…a hand…a tiny little, bony, blood red hand with five icy, needle like fingers reached for her through its swaddle of gauze.
Chapter 55; Part 2
"Fuck!" Tig grit out and was on his feet and racing to the kitchen before Joss could slam the freezer door shut as she screamed, then turned her back to it, looking like she wanted to run, but her legs wobbled under her and she slid down the refrigerator door to the floor amidst the bag of peas, package of chicken wings, pot roast, ice trays…and the container that had thrown everything to the floor. Joss trembled on the yellow vinyl tiles, tucked up against the fridge, her legs pulled up close to her body, her arms around them in further defense, her face buried against her knees, but she couldn't make herself not see that container. Jesus fucking Christ, what was he thinking making her have to come in here alone? The first time since she'd come home from the hospital that Tig didn't go with her into the kitchen, thinking he could protect her enough from ten feet away at the dining room table, and everything turned into a horror show!
He rushed to Joss's side, but had presence of mind enough, and instinct too, to quickly but gently scoop his boy up off the floor, returning him to the freezer before dropping to one knee beside his frantic mother. Joss hadn't seemed to notice, just kept her head down, shaking and crying, frozen food and ice cubes all around her on the floor, but Tig did what he could to pull her away from it all by taking her in his arms, pressing her head to his chest, holding her tightly and hoping she could hear and feel the beat of his heart and focus on that for awhile. "It's alright, baby," he told her in a low, soft voice, not doing anything other than trying to hold her right now, she had to feel safe before she'd be able to talk about it. Yeah, like she was ever going to be able to talk about this…
She shuddered and drew shaky, sputtering breaths against him, clinging to him with every part she could wrap around him, her tears soaking through the long sleeved, black T-shirt he wore, but Tig held her closer still. He had to get his boy in the ground somewhere, soon. He should have done it before now, but he just wasn't able to. He did not want to have another kid, he definitely didn't…but somehow, knowing his boy was there in the freezer, in the house with him, gave Tig some strange hope that it would allow them to get to know one another better. It was a ridiculous wish to have given that his boy hadn't even been born, that his brain hadn't been formed beyond controlling involuntary organ functions, but Tig had still wanted his boy to know that his father knew he was here, that his father understood that he was a prince more deserving of being burned to ash with a bunch of medical waste. His boy…his prince…there was more to it than wanting to show his boy respect and fondness and Tig knew it, though he hadn't let himself think it until now with Joss sobbing and shaking in his arms. He wanted her to acknowledge their son, he wanted her to know what this meant, that something had happened, that they, and SAMCRO had lost a prince…that was why Tig couldn't let go of his boy…he didn't want to be the only one who would remember him.
Tig took a deep breath, or at least he tried to, cutting it short when he suddenly discerned his shaking from Joss's. He couldn't be strong for her if he was falling apart himself, and besides, this girl had been fucked up way too much to understand any of this the way he was still able to. But he wanted her to…damn it all to hell, he did! There'd been something missing between them since she'd come home from the hospital, something he'd assumed was sex…but it wasn't…not wholly. Joss had noticed that disconnect too, Tig knew she had, she'd been trying like hell to fix it, more than just offering her body to him, begging him to put an end to the divide between them by making her scream his name…but that wasn't the fix they needed. Joss had to realize they'd created a son, a prince…she had to stand beside Tig and put their boy in the ground…she had to mourn.
"Shhh," he whispered to Joss, shoving all those yearnings away before he started trying to express them to her. She wouldn't understand, but it wasn't her fault. Her asshole father…Tig's muscles leapt to fight response, his eyes narrowing until he couldn't see through them, but visions of little Joss, scared and alone, footsteps she'd grown so used to creeping up the stairs to her room, her small body crushed into the mattress of her twin bed, trying not to feel anything, digging herself deeper and deeper into the corners of her sanity, looking for a safe place to play…crosshairs square between little shoulder blades…it was too late to save that kid…but for the first time in his life, Tig was going to try!
Author's Note: Trying to make up for not having a chapter to post on Monday! Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! You guys rock!
