The Heart of a Broken Soul

Of Dirt and Ditches

A/N: Thank you to all of my lovely reviewers!

I'd just like to tell you all that (because this story is coming to a close) I've started another one, while taking a break from torturing poor Gabby. It's not really a romance (but sort of is), again with Chibs; it's completely unrelated to this story, and will be called Red for Love, Red for Blood, Red for Death. Hopefully I'll have a chapter up today. :) Thanks again to you all!

Leaning against the kitchen bench, arms firmly across his chest, Tig was desperately fighting the urge to piss himself laughing – Gabby was fighting the urge to burst into another fit of uncontrollable tears. She was covered in blood; some of it hers, from where the glass had shredded her arms, torso and legs, and some of it the man's, from where she'd bit through his hand and shot him in the neck. The body on the floor was pale and stiff, the ground covered in blood. Gabby let out a sob.

It wasn't funny, not really. But it was. Tig had honestly – like, honestly – thought that, when Gabby rang him up in hysterics, she was talking about her pet spider. He figured that it had escaped, she'd whacked it with a shoe, but it was still twitching around, like spiders do, while she curled up on a chair and bawled. That was what he'd expected to walk in to. Instead, he'd come across a hysterical, bawling Gabby, drenched in blood and half naked, and the body of one of Darby's men bleeding out on the floor.

"So... tell me again what happened?" Tig asked. Gabby had tried to tell him, but he hadn't caught much besides 'oh God, I've killed him' and 'it was an accident'.

"I was... he attacked me and I... I... it was an accident, I didn't mean to I swear!"

Tig sighed. She didn't have to plead her innocence to him; he knew Gabby wouldn't hurt a fly, and he wasn't exactly a saint himself.

"Right, well I'mma take you up to the hospital, I'll call the guys and-"

"No!" Gabby screamed. "No you can't tell anyone, Tig, you have to promise me!"

"But..."

"Promise!"

Tig's mouth opened, then closed again. He couldn't exactly not tell anyone. But the look on Gabby's face was so scared, so desperate. "I mean..." he trailed off. "How are we..." he stopped himself. "What about..?" He motioned to Gabby, waving his hands up and down like a temperamental elevator. "And I think even Bobby'll notice the broken window and the blood, Gabby. And him, he's one of Darby's; we have to tell Clay and the others."

"Please, Tig, please."

"The rest of us could be in danger," Tig pointed out.

Gabby's face set into a scowl. "Well that's a given, seeing as you lot messed up whatever is was you did last night; look at this! You can't tell Bobby or, or Filip what happened, Tig, you can't! It's the last thing they need right now."

Tig thought for a moment. She was right, in a way. If Bobby and Chibs were to find out about it they'd both fly off the rails, which wasn't a good thing, especially considering they were out on bail. And if they found out exactly what this man was trying to do to her... well... there definitely would be a war. That wouldn't bode well for him when he only had Opie and the prospect on the outside to protect everyone. As it was, the lot of them could barely protect Gabby, let alone just three.

But what if Gemma was in trouble, too? And Danae or Deborah or whatever the hell Opie's girlfriend's name was? Hell, even some of the more potent crow eaters could be in danger. Could Tig bear it if he never got to slap Tracey's ass again?

Yeah, he probably could.

But that was beside the point; he couldn't say nothing. They needed to be warned, at the very least. "Okay, here's what we're gunna do. I'm gunna get the prospect, and he'll take you to the hospital."

"But they'll call Bobby; they have to call him! And then everyone will know!"

Tig nodded. "That's right."

"I don't want everyone to know Tig, that's why I called you!"

"Okay, fine; we'll call Chibs and he can... what?" Gabby was giving him a deathly glare. He was giving her an ultimatum, and she knew it. "Look, it's either I call Chibs, or we take you to the hospital. Your choice."

"It's not much of a choice," Gabby told him. She sighed when he didn't budge. "Call... call Filip."

Nodding, Tig pulled out his phone.

Hugging her knees to her chest, Gabby stared at the body. She'd just killed someone. Sure, it had been an accident, but he was dead. What if she was caught? Would she go to jail? For how long? No, Tig and Filip wouldn't let that happen, would they? She hoped not.

Murderer.

The word rang through her mind, clear and sharp.

No. She wasn't a murderer. It had been self-defence. It was either her, or him. Either way, there was still a body, and she was still the reason for it. She had killed the man, which made her a murderer, no matter how she put it.

"At least I fit in now," she joked. Neither of them laughed. She looked up at him. "I didn't mean to, Tig, I really didn't."

"I know, doll, I know. But it was you or him, right?"

Gabby nodded.

"So you made the same decision any of us would have. Don't stress about it."

He grabbed a tea-towel from the bench and crouched down next to her. Most of her cuts had stopped bleeding, probably wouldn't need medical attention, but her elbow was pissing out blood, and she held it at a funny angle. He wrapped the tea-towel tightly around it.

There was a knock at the door. Tig and Gabby looked at each other. "He can't be here yet," Gabby said.

"Well that gun went off might've scared the neighbours. Might be the police. You'll have to answer it."

"I can't answer it! Look at me! Look at that!"

"I'm sure it'll go down even better if he bursts in here; put some clothes on and answer it!"

"You answer it!"

"I don't live here!" Tig rushed to the lounge, where a pile of clean washing was waiting to be ironed. He grabbed a hoodie and trousers, tossing them to Gabby. "If he bursts in here, we're both screwed."

Gabby shoved the clothes on, wiped her face of tears and blood, and went to the door. She opened it a crack, to find Unser standing there. "Uh, hey, Gabby."

"Hi," Gabby managed.

He tried to glimpse inside, but the door wasn't open wide enough. "Is Bobby home?"

Gabby shook her head. "No; just me."

"I see. Got a phone call; neighbours said they heard a gunshot," he explained.

There were indeed a few curious bystanders. Most of them were peeking through their curtains, but a few had been brave enough the step outside.

"Yeah, I heard that. Don't know what it was."

"Mind if I step inside for a moment?"

Gabby panicked. "Wh... why? There's nothing in here."

Unser shrugged. "Well if there's nothin' in here, you got nothin' to worry about."

Before Gabby could protest, he nudged past her. She was too weak to fight back, so just let him in, preparing for the worst. It didn't take him long to find Tig, hovering over the body, and she prepared herself for shackles and a five to life. "Aw, Jesus Christ."

Gabby sank to the floor, pushing her back against the kitchen bench, which Tig leapt up onto, apparently unfazed by the sudden forced appearance of the chief. "I know; pretty bad, huh?"

"What'd you do?" Unser asked, turning to Tig.

Tig shrugged. "He shot himself in the neck. Hey, look, I'd appreciate it this didn't reach Clay, you know? Or the police department or anything like that."

Unser just stared from Tig to Gabby to the body.

There was the sound of more footsteps, and Filip appeared. His eyes widened as he scanned the room. "What the hell happened here?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Unser piped up.

"Never mind that now. You," he pointed to Filip, who raised an eyebrow, "fix her up. You help me with this."

Gabby sat unnaturally still as Filip stitched up her worst wounds. If it was supposed to hurt, she didn't feel it; she was still in shock over what had happened, and her whole body felt numb. Filip was silent as he went, rhythmically working; douse it in alcohol, stitch it up, cover it with a bandaid, bandage it up. She was lucky enough that only a few were deep enough to leave a scar; none of the cuts, according to Filip, were life-threatening.

The stitching wasn't absolutely perfect, but it saved Gabby a trip to the hospital, and Bobby the knowledge; both Filip and Unser had reluctantly agreed to keep it under wraps. When he was finished, he placed the needle down and cupped Gabby's face, forcing her to look at him. "Are ye alright?" he asked.

"I just killed someone, Filip. How do you think I am?"

His eyes searched her, as though he was looking for something in her. He must have found it, because he leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead and said, "ye'll be fine."

He was upset that she'd gone to Tig before him, but what could he do? She'd probably realised that he'd be pissed off. That he'd do something stupid. Of course she had, that's why she didn't call him. She didn't want everyone knowing what had happened, and knew Tig well enough to be certain he'd keep his mouth shut. Filip wouldn't say anything; it would do her no good. But he wasn't entirely sure about the cop. Sure, Unser was in Clay's pocket, which was enough to make him believe this would never reach the authorities and blow back on Gabby, but that didn't mean he wouldn't tell Clay.

Sighing, Filip helped Gabby to her feet. "Ye should get dressed; I'll go help those two idiots." He left her to find Unser and Tig wrapping up the body in a large, thick sheet of plastic.

"You know," Unser said, "I could get fired for this."

Tig scowled at him. "Fired? I'd be more worried about jail if I were you. Yeah, I bet the boys in there'd be real happy to have you as a cell mate."

"We need to get tha' window fixed up," Filip said.

Tig waved him off. "You just get Gabby out of here, man. Before somethin' else happens to her."

Filip snorted. Yes, she did seem to have an unnatural amount of bad luck. But this wasn't a matter of bad luck; this happened because they didn't pay Darby. And if they couldn't get to Gabby, they'd get to someone else. "Wha' are ye gunna do about Darby?"

"Ahh, we'll worry about that later."

Gabby walked out of the bathroom just then, her eyes red and puffy. She'd been crying again. "Wh... what will you do with him?"

Unser looked at her with what might have been pity, as Tig spoke. "Well, we'll get rid of him."

"How?"

Tig gave Filip a look. Nodding, Filip took Gabby by the shoulders. "Let's go, love; ye can't stay here." He guided her outside, to where his motorbike was.

"Where are we going?" Gabby asked, taking the helmet Filip held out for her.

She didn't care where they went, really. As long as she was far away from here, and with Filip, it didn't matter.

"My place," he answered, mounting his bike.

Gabby hopped on behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and resting her head on his back.

She was starting to feel the pain, as it crept up her arms and legs and torso, and her whole body felt weak. The scraping of his nails on her legs and his fingers on her skin lingered as Gabby tried to stay calm.

Why did these things always happen to her? She'd never been an exceptionally lucky person, but why should that mean she got all the bad luck in the world? Her parents; her siblings; Jeremy; now this. Sure, she had Filip, but he was on his way to jail, and she had no idea how long he'd be in there for. It was all messed up.

Gabby didn't notice as Filip pulled up at his house, nor did she pay much attention when he took her inside. It was only when he asked if she was hungry did she snap back to reality. "Did ye eat?"

Gabby's mind briefly flitted to her bedroom, where her lasagne was sitting on the bedside table, going cold.

"I'm not hungry just... just tired."

Filip sighed. He motioned for her to follow him. "Ye can sleep in my bed; I'll take the couch."

Before he could leave, Gabby caught him by the arm. "Stay? I don't want you to go."

She was terrified that if he left, someone else would attack her. Even if he was just in the living room. Even if they couldn't possibly know she was here. She didn't want to be alone, because every time she closed her eyes she saw the man's bloody body on the ground. But it wasn't the man anymore; it was Filip, or Bobby, or Tig. It was Lucy and her baby, or Jamie and Alisa. And it wasn't her; it was Jeremy, standing over them with a knife dripping blood.

Gabby let out a shaky breath, as Filip watched sadly. "I can stay."

Tig groaned as he struggled to pull the body out of the boot. Bastard weighed a tonne, and that was before Tig had wrapped him in a thousand layers of plastic. If that wasn't difficult enough, rigor mortis had set in; the body was stiffer than a plank of wood.

The body clunked and cracked as it hit the ground. Grabbing it by the legs, Tig dragged it further into the bush. He'd promised to make sure this was never traced back to Gabby, and that's exactly what he was going to do. He was going to dig a ditch, throw the body in there, set it on fire, and busy the whole goddamned thing. He'd doused it in bleach already; some of the blood on the body was likely to be Gabby's.

Unser had left not long after Filip and Gabby. He'd promised not to tell anyone, but he refused to help dispose of the body; didn't want it getting back to him. Tig got that, but it wasn't exactly like he wanted to be burying bodies in the middle of the night, either; there was a whore back at the clubhouse with his name on it.

When he was a considerable distance out of Charming, he dropped the body, and went back to collect a shovel and gasoline. It took him and hour to dig a deep enough ditch. He kicked the body in there, soaked it with gas, and set it alight.

Tig loved fire. Well, being as sadistic as he was, he liked anything that caused pain to another, but there was something about fire that was different to guns and knives and running people over in cars. When you pull the trigger of a gun, or brandish a knife, you can control where it goes; with fire, once you've lit it, you've got no control. Fire was its own being.

That's what he liked about it. And if you were careful enough, then it was an accident; a strike of lightning or badly placed heater.

The fire warmed Tig up as he thought; what were they going to do about Darby? If things kept going the way they were, it would get out of control. More people would die. Clay had already made it clear that they weren't paying the money, and Darby made it clear that he wanted the money. As soon as the others went to jail, it would all fall upon Tig to work this shit out.

A deal; that's what they'd have to come up with. Some sort of deal that kept the both of them happy. Allowing Darby into Charming was out of the question. Although, there was that sheet metal factory. It had been a big money-maker for Darby and while technically it wasn't a part of Charming, it was just inside the borders of the town. There was the motel just down the road from it where Darby's whores worked, but the loss of the factory had put a huge dent in his business.

Maybe he could negotiate with Clay to give it back to Darby. After all, the man who owned it lived out of town; classified it as part of Stockton. He simply got a tad ambitious when building it, and it crossed into Charming.

All he had to do was convince Clay and the others...