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.

Chapter 9

Joss heard heavy footsteps coming towards the room that had come to be called "hers," and she looked up from where she leaned back against the wall behind the bed with a happy, but apologetic smile, knowing who it was that looked in on her. Sure enough, there stood Clay, "Pitfall: The Big Adventure" clasped firmly in his big hand, but he gave a silent groan as he looked in, realizing that there would be no Wii tonight. But Joss could also see Clay smile as he watched the bluish gleam from the TV set flicker over her face in the dark room. Joss shrugged, but tried hard not to move too much, not that she could with all of her casts.

"And here you are," Gemma sighed, coming up behind Clay. "Right where I told you not to go tonight." She scolded quietly, but gave Joss a quick smile herself before turning her face to Clay's, reaching up and clasping her hands around his neck.

"I was just checking," Clay said innocently, shrugging his big shoulders. "You can't blame me. I just got this game figured out! Now I know that orange stuff is fire, and not to stick my foot in it!"

Joss couldn't help the giggle that escaped her, and she quickly cupped her hand over her mouth. She'd never expected to feel as "adopted" as she did, not just by SOA, but also by Clay and Gemma, but she did, and it was a good feeling. Clay always wandered back to her room, after kissing Gemma when he arrived home from work, and immediately asked how Joss was feeling. He'd been the first person to sign her cast…all of them, once a day, each time with a different name that made Joss laugh. Her two favorites had been "Vladimir Happy Pants," and "Hugh G. Reckshon." And Gemma! Joss couldn't have been more thankful for someone like her in her life at a time like this! Her life had been sorely missing a female role model, and Gemma's caring, loyal and fiercely protective nature, all encased within her 'don't fucking mess with me' exterior was more than Joss could have hoped for. What had started out as one stranger living with, and being totally dependent upon, two other strangers had quickly melted into the family Joss had never had. And tonight, they were letting her have a sleep over of improvised sorts.

"Well I'm sorry, but no video games for you tonight," Gemma smiled a sultry smile up at Clay, but still managed to direct a wink in Joss's direction, letting her know that she'd keep Clay occupied and out of whatever business was going on in Jax's old room tonight. She looked back at Clay, "but if you still want to play with fire, then come play with me!" she purred.

"Ohhhh!" Clay growled and smiled, pulling Gemma close and kissing her sexy smile. He raised his head a bit just before he and his wife disappeared down the hallway. "Night Joss," he half whispered with a smile, then even though it wouldn't be heard, added, "and good night, Tig."

Joss smiled, looked down at where Tig's head lay on a pillow placed on her lap, but he was sleeping deeply and didn't wake in the slightest. There'd never been contact like this between them before, never. When Tig touched her it was either sexual or some kind of angry, domineering 'I'll show you' kind of yank or jerk. But here he was, peaceful and stable, reclined on his side, the back of his head cradled by her flat belly, the cast on her right arm beneath the pillow in her lap to prop it up just enough for his neck not to be bent at an uncomfortable angle, and his arm across her outstretched legs, his hand gently resting contentedly on her right knee. He probably didn't sleep at all the night before, not with what he'd been contemplating before coming to see her earlier today. She lightly stroked his shoulder through the blue cotton of the button down shirt she'd always liked him in, and then looked towards Gemma and Clay again, mouthing a silent "Thank you" as they departed to their room.

Chapter 9; Part 2

Sleep was a welcomed, tranquil veil, but Tig's mind never shut down, never shut off. There was always some thought, some deed, some theory, some question, some memory turning over and over in his head like the wind whipping up a storm, and it was blowing full force tonight. Maybe he'd gotten a little out of control earlier, gone a little crazy; it wouldn't have been his first sojourn to the "other side." Tig had no clue what he'd sounded like. He couldn't feel anything other than stuff about Joss that had been ripping him apart from the inside out for days now. But he'd told her all about that, thought that even in his unbalanced state he'd managed to put it to her pretty clearly. She just had to understand how much he hated what he felt, but that he couldn't stop feeling it, and he hated that too. He was in no way a willing participant to this, and he hated the only choice he was left with, and it was all because of her, every last little sensation that took him over, throttled him to within an inch of his sanity and then laid him out flat on the floor, crying, screaming and cursing her name and his humanity. It was all because of her.

It seemed like it had been quiet in the room for several minutes after he'd stopped going off, the only noise really was the funny sound of Joss's breathing, like she was about to hyperventilate. Fuck, he'd overdone it, but he'd also managed to say his piece. There was only one thing left to do now, and he was too exhausted in too many ways to think of a decent lead in or transition, so he just sat forward in the chair, getting to his feet. "I got something on the bike," he said stepping closer to the bed Joss seemed pinned down to. "C'mon." He leaned down, intending to scoop her and her busted limbs into his arms and carry her outside, but just before he was close enough to put a hand on her, she let out some sound in between a yelp and a squeal, and pushed herself as far away from him as she could physically get, now cowering in the corner of the headboard and the wall, noticeably shaking, tearful, her eyes watching him through a blank stare of horror.

"What the fuck is this?" Now he yelled, couldn't control the anger that surged inside him, not a nerve left for anything to be getting on, holding his hands palms up, but indicating her direction and demeanor with them. He was finally admitting defeat, showing her he was broke down to nothing, he was finally giving into what he knew she'd always wanted, and now's when she suddenly acted all afraid and stand-offish? Jesus Christ! He'd never fucking figure her out!

But the more he looked at her, the more Tig began to see something else. Her eyes were wide, but they'd closed and she trembled when his voice had raised, she'd pulled her broken leg and foot and arms as much around herself as she could, despite the three casts, and she was crying, uncontrollably, making no noise, just looking at him with fright and pleading her green eyes. Lots of people had looked at him like that before, lots of women, for the last time. Shit! Yeah, he'd way overdone things!

"Oh, Joss," he moaned sorrowfully, and for a second time that day, fell to his knees, his elbows on the bed she tried to shield herself from his madness upon. "No," he shook his head, covering his face with his hands and rubbing his forehead, feeling himself start to tear up one more time, and not being able to do a damn thing about it, still. He truly was at a loss for how it was possible to feel another fucking thing today, but now he was, and it consumed so much more than anything else he'd felt previously, shame. He hadn't meant to scare her…not really, but he'd certainly not meant to threaten her. He wasn't a thing that could handle this, he wasn't built to feel…what he felt for Joss, this was never going to work; he'd always end up hurting her, just like he'd done now. "No, baby," he muttered again, reaching out towards her with one hand, but not surprised to see her pull back even further. Christ, there were times when it actually felt good to have the shit beat out of him, and this would have ranked pretty highly as one of them had there been an available party to kick his ass. He leaned forward more on his knees, reached out further until he touched the toes that stuck out of the hard cast on her left leg. She couldn't pull that leg any closer to herself than it already was, and he knew that. They were just her toes, but it was part of her enough to at least let her feel that his touch wasn't fueled by anger, or murderous intent. His hand closed over them gently, being so careful, over-accentuating tenderness in his touch. "No, c'mon, it's not like that, I swear to God it's not."

Joss drew a deep breath, wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, but she still didn't trust him, but she was beginning to want to, he could see it in her eyes where her tears still flowed. He always hated being hit by that urge to take care of her, but Tig didn't fight it this time, remembering there was a box of tissues on the night table. He leaned over to get her one, yanking it out of the box with ordinary intentions, but as soon as he moved, he saw Joss flinch. He felt himself grimace, for a second not having to imagine how terrified and hurt she felt, because he could feel everything she did, but it was soon too much to bear, and Tig shook it off, preferring actions to feeling her pain.

He was much slower with his movements now, approaching her carefully as he crawled onto the bed beside her, treating her like some scared rabbit he only wanted to show affection to. "It's okay," he half whispered as he got closer to her, sliding up beside her on the mattress, her eyes watching him vigilantly, her body stiff as if she still possessed the power to get up and run if she wanted to. "It's okay," he soothingly repeated, balling up the tissue and slowly, gingerly pressing it to the tears on her cheek. To his surprise, but also relief, she didn't pull away from him, but she was still watching his every move, and she was still crying. He wasn't sure what else to do now, but he knew this wasn't enough though, that was obvious. Fuck! Why'd he do this to her? If she only knew how fucking sorry he was, and how much he fucking hated being sorry! But he was sorry…oh!

"Joss," he began, but now his throat started to get tight and he was feeling nervous. But, when he'd said her name, Tig had noticed that she'd looked at him, or more so, that she'd looked to him, needing him to make this better, because no one else could. "I'm sorry, Joss. I'm so sorry!" The words were hard to swallow, because Tig knew he was likely to be saying them to her a lot. "Crazy's my thing, babe, I can't help it, you know what I am." He blotted her tears on the other cheek with the same slow and gentle manner as he'd first touched her with, focusing more on how dry her skin was becoming than he was looking her in the eyes, he didn't want to see her expression if it was still horror and hurt, but he had a sense that she was calming down, that she was giving him a chance. What the fuck had just happened? How'd he go from being a pussy hair away from losing his shit, to being the one making everything all better now? That couldn't be healthy. God damn it all! But, he hoped he was doing it right! "But I am sorry, and I hope somehow you believe it."

Chapter 9; Part 3

It was black leather, new, soft, supple, black leather that had some fringe hanging down each convex back seam, and there was leather lacing on each open side instead of another seam, almost like a corset. The front of the vest also closed with long leather laces that looped around four, big, leather covered buttons. Joss could wear it over something or with nothing at all under it, the cut and style designed to cling to and show off the body that had won her more than a handful of pageant crowns. But that wasn't what made this vest special, not all.

She suddenly felt herself sliding off of Tig's bike where it was parked in Clay and Gemma's driveway. She struggled to adjust herself and cursed the heaviness of the cast on her left leg that kept pulling her off balance, but just then Tig reached out and gently steadied her, bringing her against him and holding her there. It wasn't the cast that was pulling her off the bike, it was that the bike itself was shaking, because so was Tig, and so was she. But this time it was in a much better way. Joss couldn't believe he'd given her this, and neither could he.

Her finger shivered as she touched it to the embroidery on the back of the vest, tracing the bottom rocker again and again. There was a reaper in the center, but a much smaller version than what was on Tig's cut, and the letters S.A.M.C.R.O. weren't styled in a rocker format, but instead they were sewed in a straight line beneath the reaper logo. There was a top rocker though, with big, all capital letters that read, "PROPERTY." At the bottom was another rocker, also with big, all capital letters, and they read, "OF TIG."

Joss had read it three times now, and three times she'd gasped, finally looking up at Tig and trying to think of something to say, but she was so shocked and so excited and so happy, that all she could do was laugh like a kid on Christmas morning. He'd given her a property patch, she was now his! It didn't get anymore official than this by MC standards, not even with a wedding ring attached. There'd be no more sending her away, no more trying to find her way back to him, she was his, she belonged to him in the same way that his bike belonged to him; Tig hated it, but he'd decided to keep her!

"I gotta explain what this means?" She got the impression that Tig felt like someone should say something, even though he had no real idea of what to say for an occasion like this. Or, maybe he wanted to be certain she understood just what it was he'd given her, what it meant in every context it represented.

Joss's head whipped back and forth in a happy frenzy. "No!" She smiled, unable to contain her joy, and quite a contrast to the petrified girl who was sure she'd be dying by his hand if she left the confines of Jax's old room with him. "No, Tig, you don't!" She finally settled herself down enough to look up at him and smile, but she couldn't stop tracing the bottom rocker with her finger, which worked over the three letters of his name again and again.

Tig shook his head as if trying to down play all the honor she was giving him, but he must have wanted to reciprocate it at the same time. "You know you're the only one to ever get this from me, I had an old lady once years ago, but no girl has ever worn my patch."

Joss's smile only grew wider as she felt more and more touched, and soon she was blinking back tears once more. She'd seen plenty of old ladies wearing property patches in all the clubs that she'd hung around on her many journeys to find Tig, and she'd always envied them. To outsiders even the name "property patch" held nothing but negative, sexist connotations of slavery, where women were owned by men and severely punished for not obeying their master's every word. Well, there was that side of it, Joss had seen it first hand, but it didn't have to be like that. She'd seen more patched women who were treated like queens than she'd seen abused, but what a patched woman's life was like and how she was regarded was up to the man she was the property of. And men didn't hand out property patches to just any woman, they were usually very selective, it was a major decision that in some clubs even required the approval of the President, or at least was put up for discussion at "church." Joss gasped again, suddenly realizing that when Tig had gone to Clay and Gemma about taking her in from the hospital, that he must have submitted what his intentions with her were to Clay then! No wonder Clay had always been so nice to her! No wonder Gemma had taken her under her wing!

"Oh, Tig!" Joss squealed, and suddenly hugged the patch to her with fervent force. She was officially his! He'd wished to make it known to everyone he respected and who respected him. If anyone touched her, or talked to her in a way she didn't like, all she had to do was say the word and there'd be hell to pay, and Tig would be the one dishing it out…and behind him would be the entire club, defending the honor of their brother by defending the honor of what he laid claim to! She'd never be a member of SAMCRO, she'd never have all the rights and privileges as Tig or his brothers, but through Tig, she had their support and their protection. That's what he'd given her. It was so much more than a vest! Joss shuddered again, loving how this all felt and loving Tig even more. "I never saw this coming!" She sniffled, but the smile wouldn't leave her face.

Tig kind of chuckled, looking more comfortable and confident in this now, but in typical Tig fashion, he wasn't about to totally give in and be as exuberant as Joss was. "Yeah, I know what you saw coming." He smiled at her teasingly, but then must have had the whole scene in Jax's bedroom playing out again in his head, because his smile faded some and his expression grew more enigmatic. He shook his head, but reached out and ran out his fingers lightly through her long, dark, wavy hair in a way Joss had never felt him do before. "This thing we have is pretty fucked up, Joss. You realize that, don't you?"

Tig wasn't apologizing, he'd already done that. But Joss knew what he was saying, despite how vaguely he'd said it. It was a warning of sorts; he wanted her to know that he wasn't sure how to do this, but that he'd try, even though this was the last place he'd ever wanted to be with any woman. "Well," Joss felt her composure returning and her smile became more reserved, more patient, but no less encouraging as she looked into his ice blue eyes. "Maybe it's just fucked up enough, then."

He sighed, his head nodded a little, and all too quickly he broke their stare and looked off in the distance. "You're crazy for wanting this, with me."

"I know," she smiled and laughed a little, because how many times had she tried to talk herself away from Tig Trager? And for very good reasons! "But you're not talking me out of it, so don't even try!" She added, still smiling, but her words tinged with a mere bit of sharpness that made Tig look back at her.

He looked at her now with a solemn expression, all seriousness. He raised both his hands to her face, fingers cupping both her cheeks and his thumbs under her chin, lifting her eyes directly to his. "Don't make me regret this, Joss. I'm begging you."

Joss felt a chill go through her, understanding that this was another warning from him. Don't disrespect him, don't make him look like a fool, don't do anything that might leave him with no other choice than the one she'd been terrified that he'd come to earlier. He didn't let go of her, his eyes still boring into hers, the intensity of his stare unlike it was any other time. Slowly Joss began to realize another part of what he was saying to her; don't hurt him, don't break his heart. The breath melted out of her, her heart pounded and she wished so much that he'd just pull her close and kiss her, but Tig was still Tig, no matter that she now wore his patch. "I'm yours," she said softly, placing her fingers tenderly over one of his hands as he held her. "Tell me what to do."

She felt him take a deep breath more than she saw him do it, like feeling something move inside him, but his eyes, his gaze, was as steady as rock. She awaited his answer, eager to give him all her healing body could handle and more, here and now, out in the open in the driveway, on his bike, but what he finally said surprised her. "Tell me you love me."