Disclaimer: See initial chapter.

A/N: This might have a different feel than the first part of this story. I hope that's alright. This has been written in response to reviews, and for K. Holtzman who wanted something from Chibs' p.o.v. (I hope this works). This is set, kind of, during season five, but there's deviation from the storyline.

Chibs tosses his rag down on the workbench and goes after Juice, because the kid's been acting off again. He's a little jumpier than he was when everything with Miles went down, and that is a scary thought.

The sound of quiet arguing stops him before he reaches the corner, and he shamelessly listens in on Juice and Tig, hoping to gain some insight as to what's going on with Juice.

"Tig, just leave it. What happened, happened."

"So, is that a yes, or a no?"

"For the hundredth time, just leave me the hell alone. Don't even know why I told you about all that shit in the first place."

"You sleeping okay at night?"

Chibs frowns, because that question has no business coming out of Tig's mouth, especially not all concerned sounding like it is, and definitely not directed at Juice. Tig isn't exactly Juice's biggest fan.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just stop asking me about Tony, okay?"

"Just want to make sure the bastard pays for what he did to you," Tig says, and now Chibs is more than just mildly curious about what is going on between the two brothers.

"And I just want to go on forgetting that it ever happened." Juice sounds tired, older than his twenty-something years. Older than any of them.

"What if he's doing it to other boys?" Tig's voice is hard.

"Like what you did to me?" Juice's voice is cut off with a strangled sort of cry and Chibs rounds the corner, choosing to make himself known. He doesn't know what to make of what he sees - Tig pinning Juice to the wall with an arm to the younger man's throat.

"Hey," Chibs shouts, and he pries Tig off of Juice, wondering what the hell had happened between the two men to cause the attack.

"What we did, together, was nothing like what that monster did to you." Tig, seemingly unaware of Chibs, even though he's got Tig in a chokehold, is still going after Juice.

Chibs doesn't know what to make of the heated exchange, and he's not about to let go of Tig when it looks like the man's about to tear Juice apart.

"Hey!" He shakes Tig a little as he shouts in the man's ear. "That's enough of that."

He feels a little like he's scolding a two-year-old when Tig squirms in his arms, still trying to grab at Juice who's rubbing his neck. A closer inspection reveals that Juice's neck is bruised, much like the time the kid had tried to hang himself. It's purple, and this close up, Chibs can see the imprints of Tig's thumb and forefinger on either side of Juice's Adam's apple.

"What the fuck is going on with you two?" he asks when Tig finally stops struggling.

When it looks like Tig's about to make another go at Juice as soon as he loosens his hold on the other man, Chibs flashes back to his childhood fights with his siblings and has a new appreciation for his mother.

"Enough!" Another shake quells Tig's attempts to get away, but Chibs doesn't release him until the man blinks and seems to come to himself.

His quiet, "Let me go Chibs," is the all clear that Chibs has been waiting for, and Chibs lets go, careful to keep himself in between Tig and Juice lest they start up again.

"I ain't nothing like him," Tig says, shoving a finger into Juice's chest. "Nothing."

Juice is glaring at Tig, his nostrils flaring, and his jaw tense. "You're every bit as bad as him." The words aren't shouted, and Juice's voice breaks a little on the last two words, and his eyes shine just a little too much in the dim light of the hall.

"Okay, that's it."

Chibs grabs a hold of both men, marching them before him like two wayward children, and shoves them ahead of him into an empty room. Juice stumbles into Tig, but Chibs quickly places himself between the two of them before Tig can slug the younger man who looks to be on the verge of tears. Chibs doesn't know whether they're tears of anger or something else, but he doesn't care, because right now he's irritated with the both of them. Jax doesn't need to deal with this kind of shit happening in his club right now.

"Sit." He points to the bed, and Tig looks at him like he's out of his mind, but Juice, after sneaking a quick look at him, ducks his head and then sits at the end of the bed. "Both of you," Chibs says.

Tig clenches his jaw, but finally sits, turning his back to Juice.

"I don't know what the fuck's gotten into you two, and I really don't give a fuck, but whatever this is," Chibs pauses in his lecture to gesture between the two of them, "it stops here. Got it?"

Juice looks like he wants to protest, but nods his head when Chibs glares at him.

"Tig." Chibs inwardly groans when he realizes that he's channeling his mother. He can almost hear her voice in the words that are coming from him.

"I didn't do anything wrong," Tig says mulishly.

"Choking your brother is wrong." Chibs winces the minute he says it, and he can hear the ghost of his Mother chuckling at his choice of words. But the words are out and he can't take them back.

"Yes, mommy," Tig says around a self-satisfied smirk, "I pwomise I won't fight wif my wittle bwother no mwore."

Chibs wants to smack the grin off Tig's face, but he realizes that it would simply prolong the battle, and he's too tired to play another round of, 'keep Tig off Juice'. He chooses to ignore Tig's jibes and turns to look at Juice, whose eyes are trained on the floor.

"One of you two wanna tell me what's going on here?"

"Nothing's going on," Juice says, but he's not looking at him, and Chibs knows that it means the kid's trying to hide something. They both are. "Tig?"

"Like the kid says, nothing's going on; it was just a misunderstanding. Promise it won't happen again, Mom."

Juice makes a big deal of digging his phone out of his pocket and looking at the time. "Shit, I gotta go." He moves to stand, but Chibs pushes him back down onto the bed and ignores the flash of fear in Juice's eyes when he finally looks at him.

Chibs is not letting either man out of his sight until he gets to the bottom of whatever has them at each other's throats like a pair of fighting dogs.

"You're not going anywhere. Not until you've told me what's really going on, and who the hell Tony is."

Juice blanches at the mention of the name, and looks away. Tig's eyes are fixed on Juice, there's a mixture of some emotion in them that Chibs is sure he must be reading wrong, because Tig's always treated Juice like a nuisance.

"Tony's an asshole," Juice says tiredly. He sags back onto the bed, his eyes trained on Tig in a silent plea. It's clear to Chibs that there's something more than meets the eye going on here, and he almost wishes that he hadn't followed Juice from the shop.

Chibs sighs, runs a hand through his hair and just stares at the two men on the bed. "Care to elaborate?"

"He's a child molesting asshole," Tig says, his eyes not leaving Juice's, "and I'm not like that. I ain't him."

Chibs knows that there's something that neither man is saying. The reason that Juice accused Tig of being like Tony is still hanging in the air between them, and as much as he really just doesn't want to know what happened, because he might have to do something that he'd rather not have to, he has to know. It's his duty.

And, he'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that his stomach twisted a little at Tig's admission that this Tony character is a child molester. He'd known of a few of them in his neighborhood, had been warned by his mother and his buddies to avoid certain houses. He'd even watched, with sick fascination, as Mr. Greely, his next door neighbor who'd invited him over for tea once, was carted off by the police when Bobby Malone went missing. The ten year old boy was found dead days later, sodomized and cut open, guts spilling everywhere, and half-eaten by vermin.

He shivers a little at the memory, but is quickly brought back to the present when Juice stands abruptly and slugs Tig, sending the other man sprawling. But, he doesn't stop there, he continues to pummel Tig with his fists, straddling him, and it takes Chibs far too long to subdue the younger man. In the end, he takes a couple of elbows to the eye and the gut, and he has to practically choke Juice, and then pin him down on the floor with the full weight of his body once he's finally gotten him off of Tig.

Juice struggles, cursing him until his voice goes hoarse, and then he just stills, body going slack beneath Chibs', breaths coming out in harsh, gasping wheezes, as though he's just been saved from drowning. Chibs doesn't let him go, though. Instead, he presses down harder, making sure that Juice is good and immobilized. He uses one hand like a vice around Juice's wrists, fixing the younger man's arms securely behind his back so that he can't wriggle free and strike out again.

Chibs' left eye's throbbing, and his gut feels tender from where Juice's elbow had dug into it more than once. He knows that he's going to have a black eye, and his nose feels like it might be broken. Chibs is thankful that it's not bleeding.

Juice is lying prone on his stomach, his head's twisted toward the left, and he's breathing heavily in and out through his mouth. Chibs is straddling his hips, sitting on Juice's ass, using his lower body to keep Juice restrained. Chibs is winded, and he turns his head to look at Tig, to see what kind of damage Juice did to him. He also needs to assess the situation, see just how pissed off Tig is, and whether or not he needs to call on Bobby or Jax for help, because he's not up to a third round of this.

Tig's face is bruised and bloody – his lip's split, there's a cut beneath his left eye, and it looks like his nose might be broken – but he doesn't look angry. If anything, he looks resigned, and worried. His eyes don't leave Juice, even though he's mopping at his bloody nose with the edge of a bed sheet.

"One of you had better tell me what the fuck is going on," Chibs says and he shifts a little, just to let Juice know that he isn't going anywhere, even though the younger man hasn't so much as twitched since he'd gone limp beneath him. "Right now." He emphasizes his words by adding pressure to the back of Juice's neck with his free hand, until there's a hitch in Juice's breathing.

There's a part of his brain, the logical part, that tells him to back off a little, but he's spitting mad and his stomach and face fucking ache from stopping Juice's unprovoked attack on Tig. He doesn't let up until Juice's breaths start making a whistling sound, and then it's only to release the hold that he has on the back of the man's neck.

"I talked Juice into giving me a blowjob," Tig says, "on our extended road trip. Thought he was okay with it."

Chibs shakes his head, and yanks a little on Juice's arms, pulling them up until he can feel resistance, and Juice whimpers.

"That true?"

"Y…yes," Juice rasps. "Lemme go." He squirms, tugging his arms, but Chibs' grip around the younger man's wrists is solid, and bruising, and he jerks on Juice's arms until he stops attempting to escape.

"You two are fucking morons, you know that?" Chibs loosens his hold on Juice, not enough to set him free, but enough so that he's no longer cutting off blood-circulation. "Keep that kind of shit to yourselves, and for fuck's sake get yourself together Juicy. Y'r falling apart at the seams. I'd've never known something was wrong if you hadn't been moping around like someone killed your favorite pussy."

He shoves the whole thing about Tony to the back of his mind, hoping that maybe he hadn't been an integral part of all of this, even though he knows that, at best, it's wishful thinking on his part. Chibs' gut churns when he thinks about Bobby Malone, the boy's dirt-streaked, tear-stained face is forever etched in his memory.

"Lemme go," Juice repeats, "please," he adds.

"Not until you promise that you ain't going to go all bat shit crazy again." Chibs isn't about to let Juice go until he knows for certain that the younger man is under control of himself, because he knows that he won't be able to do this again. He's too fucking old for this, they all are.

"I promise, just," Juice's voice is strained, and quiet, "let me go. Let me go, Chibs." There's an edge of panic in Juice's voice that Chibs chooses to ignore when the younger man starts to twist and fidget to get free.

"Stop struggling." Chibs' words only seem to make Juice's movements more frantic, and he counters by adding more pressure, because he doesn't know what else to do.

"Lemme up, please, just lemme go, I promise I won't fight you anymore," the words are almost too soft to hear, and the childish tone of Juice's voice makes Chibs' blood run cold.

"Not until someone tells me what Tony has to do with all of this." Chibs is adamant. He wants to get all of the answers before he lets Juice go, because he knows he won't get anything else out of either Juice or Tig once the tension is gone.

"Let him up," Tig says when Juice's struggles kick up a notch, and his pleas for release become a running mantra little louder than a stilted murmur.

Chibs doesn't know what to do, because he's never been in a situation like this before, and Juice doesn't sound anything like Juice – neither the happy-go-lucky, nor depressed version of Juice that he's familiar with. He sounds like a fucking kid. Like he's no more than eight, maybe ten years old, and he's gone from struggling to free himself to trembling beneath Chibs' hold on him.

"I said, let him go."

Chibs doesn't know when Tig moved from the bed to crouch before him and Juice, but he doesn't protest when Tig pulls at his arms, and pushes him off of Juice who is now openly sobbing and begging to be set free. Tig's nose has stopped bleeding, but blood is still trickling from the cut below his eye, and the bruises on his face are more pronounced. His face is a puffed and blotchy mess of dried blood and purplish black bruises.

With more gentleness and grace than Chibs has ever seen Tig display in interactions with anyone other than his daughters and Gemma, he pulls Juice to himself and shields the younger man from Chibs. Tig then does something that Chibs doesn't think he'll ever believe having witness, he sits on the floor and cradles Juice in his arms and starts rocking him.

He's whispering something in Juice's ear that is too low for Chibs to hear, and stroking Juice's Mohawk. Tig pauses in whatever it is that he's been saying to Juice who is still muttering broken entreaties which promise that he'll be good, that he won't fight back, that he won't say anything. He catches Chibs' eye over Juice's head, and raises a finger to his lips when Chibs opens his mouth to say something.

"Shh, Juice, it's okay," Tig says. "You're safe, come on, let's get you in bed, okay?"

"No." It sounds like the word is torn from the back of Juice's throat, and the muttering is replaced with a horrible keening sound that makes the hairs on Chibs' arms stand up.

Tig just holds Juice tighter and resumes his whispered words of comfort. He casts Chibs a scathing look, and starts to rub Juice's back. It seems like an eternity passes before Juice's gut-wrenching cries subside, and an almost oppressive silence settles in around them.

"What the hell happened?" Chibs is at a loss. He doesn't understand how Juice went from a homicidal maniac to a frightened, blathering childlike man in the matter of a few minutes.

"You should've let him go," Tig says, his blue eyes glittering in the darkness of the room. The sun is their only source of light, and it's coming in through a gap in the dusty curtains; even the sun doesn't seem to want to breach the somber atmosphere that has descended over the three of them.

Chibs scrubs a hand over his face and sits so that his back is against the metal bedframe. "Tell me what happened on your road trip, and don't try to bullshit me."

Juice's head is now resting in the crook of Tig's neck, and his eyes are slipping closed. Tig jerks his chin toward the bed and raises his eyebrows in an unspoken request for help. Sighing, Chibs rises and works the kinks out of his joints before aiding Tig in moving the now sleeping Juice to the bed. In tandem, they silently tuck Juice into bed, before lying down beside him – both of them flanking Juice on either side.

Once they settle, Tig pushes up on his elbows and pierces Chibs with a calculated look. "You gotta promise that you won't go to Jax with this."

Chibs shakes his head. He can't promise something like that. Lies beget lies, and have a way of worming their way to the surface and making matters worse.

Tig lies back down, turns on his side so that he's facing Juice, and the look on his face is something that Chibs cannot read. Tig traces one of Juice's tattoos with an index finger, and frowns.

"I was just trying to get a rise out of the kid, you know, to make the trip feel shorter than it was," he says, and when his eyes meet Chibs' over Juice, there's no mistaking the guilt that shadows them. "I said some shit about how he probably got paid to suck old men off. We went to a bar, tossed back a few. I guess Juice was a little more wasted than I was; he offered to suck me off, and I let him." Chibs doesn't miss the subtle movement, even in the darkening room, when Tig's hand moves to readjust his jeans around his crotch. It makes Chibs feel sick, but he doesn't interrupt.

Tig starts tracing another of Juice's tattoos, and Chibs finds it oddly soothing. "It wasn't until afterwards that the kid told me about Tony. He had a nightmare; think he thought I was Tony. The fucker lived with Juice and his mother for two years before she kicked him out because she caught them together."

"Fuck." It's the only thing that Chibs can think to say, because there isn't anything else that fits.

"Yeah. Fuck." Tig's finger stops on some loopy part of the tattoo he's focused on, lingers there, and then he pulls away from Juice. "I'm an inconsiderate ass, and, I'm reconciled to that fact, but I ain't like that."

"You've been trying to get Tony's whereabouts out of Juice?"

"Fucker needs to die."

Chibs finds himself nodding in agreement. His eyes darken as he pictures Juice, aged ten, all arms and legs, awkward as all fuck, stumbling over his own two feet, and Tony, who looks, unsurprisingly, like Mr. Geely, panting and sweating on top of the kid, his adult weight smothering the much smaller kid. And then Chibs gets it, and he blanches as he realizes why Juice freaked out when he'd pinned him down.

"Aye, he does." Chibs' mind is made up, and no, Jax won't be hearing about this.

"Just gotta get the kid to talk," Tig says.

"You certain he knows where this Tony is?" Chibs' fingers are itching to touch Juice, just as Tig had, but he isn't Tig, and he isn't sure that Juice would welcome his touch just now, even in sleep, not after what he'd done to restrain the younger man when Juice had attacked Tig.

"Yeah, caught him looking at one of those whatchacallit things they put on the net so you can look up the perverts in your neighborhood, but he closed it soon's he saw me."

"Shit," Chibs says, knowing that none of this is going to be easy, but that he can't back out of it now that he knows what happened to Juice when he was just a kid. Innocent and vulnerable, and no doubt cute.

"I just don't understand how he can be so fucking happy all the damn time," Tig says, and his fingers flicker along the bruises adorning Juice's neck.

"He ain't," Chibs says, and he gives into the urge to touch, letting his fingers ghost along the edge of Juice's jaw, to his lips…

And then he finds himself smoothing out the furrows in Juice's brow when the younger man's breath hitches and he starts to thrash around. Tig starts to stroke Juice's face, once more murmuring words to Juice that Chibs cannot hear. Between the both of them, they manage to soothe Juice back to a more peaceful state of sleep.

"Think it's been like this for him since we…" Tig trails off, and it isn't at all like the man to be so hesitant, "since I fucked him."

"'S not your fault," Chibs says, "drinking ain't no excuse, Juice knew what he was getting himself into when he came on to you."

"I ain't so sure." Tig's voice is thick with regret.

Chibs lets out a breath. "Ain't no use second-guessing it. What's done is done."

Chibs can't even pretend to understand what Juice went through when he was a kid. He doesn't really want to, but Juice isn't ten or however the fuck old he was when Tony was molesting him, he's a grown man, able to make his own decisions, and Chibs knows that whatever went down between Tig and Juice, that the former Sergeant at Arms did not force himself on Juice.

Tig rolls onto his side, tosses an arm across Juice's chest in a sort of half-embrace that seems strangely natural to Chibs.

"I won't rest easy until I know that Tony's dead, and that he can't hurt anyone else like he hurt Juice. No man that does that kind of thing to a kid deserves to live."

Chibs agrees; he just doesn't know how either of them is going to get Juice to talk. The boy can be stubborn as a mule and tight-lipped when he wants to be.

"Getting him to talk's not goin' t' be easy," Chibs says.

"Kid'll talk to you," Tig says around a yawn, and there's so much confidence in his voice that Chibs almost believes him.

The sun's no longer peeking in at them through the window, and Juice's body is warm next to his, even through the covers. Chibs can hear when Tig drifts off to sleep – the man's breathing evens out and he starts to snore lightly. Chibs doesn't fight it when his eyelids start to close; he shifts around, his own arm finding its way across Juice's stomach, and his hand resting on Tig's thigh.

He falls asleep, thinking about what he's going to have to do to get Juice to tell him what he knows about Tony. Because, one way or another, that man is going to die.