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 20

Joss was really getting frustrated with this, and so was Tig. It was hard to work like this, he needed both of his hands to fix a transmission, and with Joss cuffed to him, that was impossible. He'd tried everything, tried to make her feel useful by giving her tools to hold, but like him, she only had one hand, and couldn't hold all that many. Besides, she'd proven to not really know what wrench was which or what the situation called for…it was only creating more friction between them than there already was. This was a bad idea…but what else was Tig supposed to have done? He had to work, and with Opie suddenly disappearing for over an hour when he went to lunch, Tig couldn't take worrying about where he went anymore. Joss was alone in the house all day, and Opie knew where the house was, he'd done the wiring! It had gotten to the point now that every time Tig flipped a light on or off, he was ready for the whole house to explode…but it hadn't…yet.

"Ow!" Joss howled as he'd reached across a hot engine block with a laser thermometer in the hand that hers was cuffed to. God damn it, he'd explained to her that this old Honda was in the shop because it had been overheating; what did she expect?

"I'm sorry!" He bit out at her, but he really wasn't. She'd fought with him this morning about this, and she'd been nothing but snippy since he got to work, and it was only quarter to one. Tig was on the clock until five. He sighed and rolled his eyes, when would this day finally be over? Joss had clearly had enough togetherness with him, and the sentiment was more than mutual, but at least if they were handcuffed together, Tig knew where she was, and knew that Opie wasn't putting a bullet through the back of her head. Yeah, at least there was that, and that was the most important thing, he could ignore the rest. He picked up the largest adjustable crescent wrench in the garage, the oil cap was about melded into its fitting, it was going to take some serious jockeying to get that motherfucker off…great, he'd been fighting with Joss all day, and now he had this bit of frustration to add to it! He reached down, needing both hands to adjust the wrench to the size of the oil cap while holding it firmly in place, then began to push on it with everything he had, gritting his teeth, every muscle angrily engaged from his waist to his hands, but the cap wasn't budging, it just remained stubbornly stuck, not giving in.

"Stop!" Joss's voice was getting louder every time she whined now. Tig had been able to ignore it early in the day, but now there was no way anyone in the garage could. "You do realize that you are holding my part of these handcuffs over the hottest part of this car, and the metal is sucking up all the heat and burning me!" She just plain yelled at him that time, hiding nothing in the way she felt about this situation, or him.

Tig stared dangerously at her, straightening up, it was high time to remind her who and what she was. "Joss," he said almost calmly, but then his rage took hold of him and he jerked the wrist she was joined to violently, almost pulling her off of her feet. "Shut the fuck up!" He'd yelled louder than she had, with more vehemence than she even knew how to summon, and for a moment he saw her lower lip quiver. He'd scared her, but good, he had to. Maybe now he'd be able to get through the rest of this day in peace, and keep her safe…although, she wasn't keeping up very many arguments for why he should want to right now.

Tig bent down over the cooked on oil cap again, but just as he was about to put some more tork on the wrench again, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He stood up, turning around. There stood Clay, wiping his greasy, black hands on a paper towel. He didn't look happy. Fuck!

For a moment Clay glanced over Tig's shoulder at a huffing, teary eyed Joss, but looked right back at Tig. "Is it possible we could have a word?" He asked, glancing at Joss again. "In private?"

Well, no, it wasn't…Tig began to realize he'd left the key to the cuffs on the night table…he and Joss were stuck in so many ways! "Yeah," he said to Clay though, not wanting to disappoint him. He looked over his shoulder at Joss, so annoyed with her. "Joss, cover your ears."

She just looked back at him, rolling her eyes. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Did she not see that she'd run him out of the meager boundaries of decorum he had today. "I said cover your ears!" He yelled, something in his voice that he usually only heard when he was screaming at someone he just hated. "And hum!"

Joss narrowed her eyes and scowled at him, she was so full of defiance today, and Tig already was planning on how to break her of that. But at the moment she of course had no choice but to comply, and she did, but let him know with her malevolent stare just how much she hated it and him right now.

Tig turned back to Clay, completely calm. "That's the best I can do," he admitted. "But go ahead, what did you need?"

Clay couldn't help but look at Joss, the odd way she was standing with her own hand over one ear and both Tig's hand and hers pressed to the other side of her head, like Tig's fingers were sticking out of her ear as she angrily hummed "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." "Look," Clay finally began. "I understand why you're doing this, and I can't blame you," he said, then sighed. "But, we got to do something about this little 'chain gang' at work, okay?"

Tig's heart sank, he just deflated inside. Clay wasn't happy with him. "Yeah," he said, his voice hushed, feelings hurt. He didn't want to see her right now, but he couldn't help but turn and look at Joss. Fuck, but she did get him into some tight spots, usually mental and emotional ones, but this, well, this was unacceptable. "I'll take care of it, Clay." He promised, and before Clay was even gone, Tig had again turned to Joss, who still hummed and covered her ears, and out of nowhere he grabbed her by the throat with his free hand, not so easy to do with a large crescent wrench in his hand, but somehow he'd managed. "Joss!" he growled at her, shaking her until her hands fell away from her ears and she looked at him with fear in her eyes. "You have got to keep your fucking mouth closed! Imagine some place you'd like to be, and fucking go there! Stop getting in my way, and just follow along! Can you do—"

"And what if I don't want to?" She growled back, and there was that tone of voice…she'd somehow slipped from the grasp Tig had on her, and then he heard her exhale, her eyes taking on that weird glow of hell's fire. She arched her back, both her hands not clenching into fists, but her fingers bending maniacally until they weren't fingers anymore, they were claws. "I didn't want to come here!" She began; that slinking malevolence to her voice again, and she was stepping closer to him, and closer, so angry that Tig swore he could feel it coming off of her like steam on a hot street after a rainstorm. "This was your idea!" Her voice had not only gotten louder, but higher pitched; here came the spider monkey! She'd be wailing like a banshee soon and if he wasn't careful, those claws would be going for whatever part of him she could get too…and he was handcuffed to her! Fuck! There was no use in trying to talk her down now, he'd seen it break over her; she'd lost her fucking mind, both of her arms trembling as they rose in front of her, as much as she could get both of them too, reaching out towards him, but moving like the blades in a blender. "I fucking hate it here and I want to go home!" It was the last thing he'd heard her say that was intelligible, her voice not even a voice anymore, but she was no less quiet, just screaming these high pitched noises like a cat being torn apart, at the top of her lungs, as her hands began slashing at him.

Usually, the best thing to do in this situation was to shove her into some small space and bolt the door, it would work itself out and she'd be fine…or, to take cover himself in some small space, and let Joss work herself out…but neither option was available to Tig now, particularly not with these fucking handcuffs! But Joss was coming at him, full force and full on spider monkey crazy, and he couldn't get away from her, one of her swinging claws catching him just beneath his eyebrow, another on the same hand hooked his ear and she slashed him open, leaning forward now with a visceral, insane screech, her teeth bared and open wide, going for his throat. Tig's anger was beyond full attention now and it flipped his own switch; he swung the crescent wrench, felt the contact it made against Joss's head, heard her skull crush beneath the blow, and she fell to the ground so fast and hard that it jerked him down onto one knee.

Jesus! What happened? What had he done? "Joss!" He yelled, shaking her violently, but her only response was the warmth of her blood that pooled around his knee. "No!" There were tears in Tig's eyes, why did she have to come at him like that? "Joss!" He called again, louder this time, as if maybe she just couldn't hear him. Fuck! No, he couldn't lose her, she meant too much to him to lose her, particularly by his own hand over something like this. But she wasn't moving, or breathing, she was just laying there, her head turned out towards the open bay door, her beautiful green eyes wide, but seeing nothing. "No, baby, no…please!" He was a mess, openly crying and shaking her like it was somehow going to work, the idea that she needed help finally filtering through his panic. "Someone call 911!"

Someone he couldn't see was walking towards him, the steps not so hurried, but soon they stopped, and Opie was looking down at him, and at Joss. He shook his head. "It's too late for that now, man."

Chapter 20; Part 2

There was a muffled scream, then the bed shook, Joss's eyes opened, the room was still dark, and she could hear Tig, who was sitting up now, breathing hard and making some kind of growling noises like he was frustrated with something. She rolled her eyes then closed them again. "Tig, I'm on my side, I'm not touching you, and my hair is in a braid, so it's not touching you either, I swear."

"What?" He asked her after a few seconds, his breathing still ragged and he was still sitting up. "No, I just had this…dream, that's all."

At that Joss's eyes sprang open and she sat up, feeling guilty. Tig didn't often have dreams that affected him like this, but it wasn't unheard of, either. "Oh no," she sighed, turning to him, her first instinct to put her arms around him and comfort him, but with Tig, that only made things worse. She reached out and laid her hand gently on his arm, letting him know she was there. He was sweaty, still trying to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he held his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. Joss's heart was breaking for him; she reached beside her and grabbed a tissue from the box on her side of the bed, folding it and without saying a word, pressing it to the tears she could just make out on Tig's cheek. "Are you okay? Were you in Africa again?" Most of his dreams were about Somalia, but not all of them. The ones that had him this shaken up though, those were usually the Africa dreams.

"No!" He was quick to say it and she could tell he meant it, so Joss backed off. "Don't make me talk about it," he more begged her that told her, and his voice was softer now, like he was sorry he'd nearly yelled at her before. He was just staring down at the sheets like he couldn't look at her, and Joss began to wonder if he'd had a dream that she'd betrayed somehow, and she felt tears in her own eyes. Tig brushed away her hand with the blotting tissue and took a deep breath, but still didn't look at her. "Just…come here." He beckoned to her with one arm.

Joss moved closer, not sure what he wanted, but certain that he'd tell her where "here" was. He put his arm around her, turning towards her a little more and pulled her close, pressing her cheek into the dark curls on his chest, making her want to nuzzle against them and smile, but she didn't, her arms bending, but she knew not to put them around him and embrace him the way he was her, and so she began to just lay her palms flat against his chest, but Tig balked at that also.

"No, don't touch me, just come here," he said desperately and pulled her even closer, with her arms now down at her sides doing nothing, his head bent against her shoulder now, his eyes squeezed shut against her neck, he was still shaking a little. What had he been dreaming? She'd never seen him like this. "Just come here," he said again, sort of moaning it, hugging her tighter and tighter until it was difficult to get a breath into her lungs. "Come here, come here, come here…"

"I'm here, Tig," she whispered against his chest, but it didn't seem like it was calming him any, he still shuddered, and it felt like there were more tears falling onto her neck from his eyes, but she knew he didn't want her to do anything but what she was doing now. Just let him hold her, just bear the pressure of this needful affection, but pay no attention to it.

He'd been a little jumpy at times ever since the party, and Joss suspected it had to do with his brother she'd come to find out was the Opie he'd mentioned being Piney's son, who had also wired the house. Tig usually went to work in the morning and then called her at lunch, and maybe before he left for the day to let her know he was on his way home, but within the last two days, he'd been calling her randomly four, five, even six times a day, always asking the same question: "Everything okay?" But he never would tell her why things might not be.

Slowly Tig let go of her, taking another deep breath and seeming like he was more together now. He looked at her and stroked the braid her hair was in where it lay over her shoulder. "I don't like it this way," he told her, picking up her platted hair. "Let it loose, if it touches me, I'll deal."

She smiled a little, he was so inconsistent sometimes. Joss slipped her black polished fingernail beneath the elastic band that held her braid together, pulling off, next moving to unwind her braid, but Tig was doing it for her, pulling his finger through it and combing it out straight again with his hands. "I don't like it braided up either." She faintly smiled at him, trying to gauge where he was and what she could and should say.

Tig was stone though. "I'm getting up. There's no way I'm going back to fucking sleep and dreaming that again!" He said fiercely, and put both his feet on the floor, his back to her. Joss stole a glance at the clock, it was only a bit after three; he didn't have to be at work for another four hours.

"Tig, I know it must have been pretty bad," she said, trying not to sound like she was prying. But he really should try to sleep. He hadn't been sleeping all that well for the last two or three nights and today was Friday. Not only did he have a full day at the garage, but there was "church" tonight and the usual party afterwards. "But I don't think you declaring war on sleep is going to help things. You've got enough crazy going on; if you throw sleep deprivation in there with it you may not be as in control of it as you usually are."

He was looking away from her, but Joss saw him flinch right after she'd said it, and now another tremor coursed through him, his hands clenched. "I just gotta get up, Joss! I gotta do something!"

She sighed, Tig and his anxiety, although she'd never let him know he was prone to it. "Okay," she said, turning and putting her feet on the floor as well. "If you're getting up, so am I."

"What?" he looked over his shoulder at her, squinting objectionably. "You don't have to, you can go back to sleep."

Ah, but he hadn't said, "I don't want you to, I want you stay here, I don't want you to get up." Joss smiled to herself, he wasn't that hard to figure out, but she'd never let him know that either. "Oh please," she groaned, getting to her feet and walking around to his side of the bed. "Like we both don't already know that the 'something' you're going to go do is put on your old Van Halen CD and crank it up, so I can lay up here, unable to sleep because 'Pan-Na-Ma-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah' is rattling the floorboards."

Finally the faint shape of a smile crossed Tig's face, but he got up and went downstairs, saying nothing. Joss followed, knowing she'd likely end up falling asleep on the loveseat while Tig maintained this odd, anxious vigil, but she had to go with him; sometimes he would consent to a neck and shoulder rub, and whatever she could do to relax him, Joss was willing to do. Once she'd gotten down to the living room though, Tig was already looking in the CD case, maybe it was just some silly spitefulness, but it was the Van Halen CD that was in his hand. He grinned at her because he knew she couldn't stop him, and put the CD in the player. She shook her head at him and walked passed him into the kitchen. Tig was definitely not a warm milk type of person, but Joss grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and opened it; sometimes, that got him to go back to sleep too. When she returned to the living room he was sort of lounging on the couch in his ratty gray sweat pants, shirtless, smoking a cigarette and listening to his music.

"Here," she said, nudging his arm with the beer bottle, then went to take her place on the loveseat and wait and see if Tig really wanted to talk after all.

"Thanks." He said, the stereo remote in his hand as he bumped through the tracks, finally stopping on the one she'd gotten so used to hearing.

"What is it with you and this song?" She sighed, because really, he'd never been to Panama, that she knew of, and the stupid song really didn't have anything to do with Panama to begin with.

"I never told you that?" He asked as if he was surprised, exhaling smoke and then taking a sip of beer.

"No," Joss shook her head. "How to get the most out of an oxygen tank you covered, but Van Halen you skipped." She laughed.

Tig smiled for a second, but then his expression was all foreboding. "You don't repeat this, got it?"

Joss nodded, so used to that warning before anything personal he told her. There were so many things that she was not to repeat…and she hadn't.

"When I was in Somalia," he began, and Joss got the impression that Tig had set this whole thing up, with the song that was, hoping it would put her at ease that he'd been dreaming about Africa, and to just forget about it. But Joss knew it was something else, but she'd never say so right now, at this moment; she just kept her mouth closed and listened to what Tig was telling her, because it was no less something about him she didn't know. "It was just a whole lot of either being scared to death, or being bored to death; when you weren't one, you were the other," he said, that horrified nostalgic quality to his voice that just couldn't be faked, despite the red herring the whole suggestion of him having an Africa dream was. "But there were times when my squad just had to get out of it all, had to bust off post and do something stupid. We found this old van, abandoned, only a few clicks off post, just sitting there in the bombed out street…we used to joy ride in it…and the weirdest thing was, this tape was in it," he pointed towards the stereo that was currently blaring, 'Pan-na-mah-ah-ah-ah.' He smiled now, laughed a little. "Only, we used to sing, 'Af-Ric-ah-ah-ah!'"

Joss laughed; he was trying to push her in the wrong direction with that anecdote, but that he told her about it was no less touching. Something was bothering him, and if he wanted her to think it was just his Post Traumatic Stress, then that was fine, she could handle that, while trying to get some more information about what was really going on. "It's going to be okay, Tig." She said, "You've survived a lot of things, even me," she smiled. "Everything will be fine."

He nodded, but she knew he wasn't really listening to her; he was gone inside his head again, but it wasn't Africa he was traipsing through in there, it was some other jungle. "Joss," her name just appeared out of his mouth, without him looking at her.

"Yeah?" She asked, watching him, and noticing how fidgety he was becoming.

"You know you mean…a lot to me, right?" There went his nervous knee, jumping as he said the words.

That had surprised her, but why he'd say that, now, was making her worry more and more about what it was that truly had him so rattled. "I know," she smiled warmly at him then her smile became more of a smirk. "And I really am sorry about it, too!"