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 22

Joss was stunned; she recognized the beard, the black skull cap folded up in the front over the brown hair, the black leather jacket the cut was snapped to. Opie! What did she do now? Or was there even a reason to do anything? Even if there was, she couldn't call Tig. He was in the chapel, and as were the rules, all cellphones were deposited into a cigar box in the clubhouse outside of the chapel. Getting up and running over there wasn't logical…Opie was here, and he blocked the doorway. But, he didn't look like he meant her any harm; he looked more startled and surprised to find her in here.

"Oh," he flinched as his eyes settled on her, realizing he'd scared her. "I'm really sorry; I thought maybe Clay was still over here, checking the repo-list, or something."

Joss shook her head, afraid to speak…and she couldn't speak, she had no clearance to speak to Opie, and it didn't matter that Tig wasn't here to see that she was or was not obeying the rules of her patch. She didn't know Opie, she couldn't trust him, a lot of things could hide a lot about what his intentions were, she'd had absolutely no time to get a feel for who and what he was the first time she'd "met" him. She only had Tig's reactions to go on, and they weren't good. She hoped that now that he'd apologized and seen that she wasn't Clay, Opie would just go away, but he smiled at her and continued to stand there in the doorway.

"It's Joss, right?" He asked, smiling as he pointed to her, and she was confused because his voice was so jovial, making her want to talk to him. He didn't sound like he had some malignant motive; hell, Tig sounded more menacing yelling, "I'm home, baby" from the foyer when he got in from work. But come on, he had to know the rules, she couldn't talk to him, so why was he acting like she could?

He laughed a little, maybe realizing now that by MC law she had to play mute. "Yeah, you're Joss." He said, leaning comfortably in the doorway now as though he intended to stay and talk "at" her for a while, but then his brow furrowed and his smile faded. "Whoa, what happened?"

What was he talking about? What was he looking at? Shit! Her finger! Great, there stood a possible shark, and there was literal blood in the water! And fuck it, but the blood had dripped onto her new jeans in three places, too! God damn it! She had to go to the party in another hour or so, and now they were ruined! There was no chance that Tig was going to take her all the way home so she could change, and then drive all the way back out again. They only lived about seven minutes away, but still, he wouldn't do it, she knew that. What? Why the fuck was she worried about that, now? Her wardrobe was the least of her problems! There may not be any party for her tonight! What was wrong with her priorities? Well…nothing. Joss had been around a lot of bad asses and just plain asses by now, if Opie was meaning to fuck her up somehow, he was certainly taking the long road to doing it when he only had a short amount of time to pull it off, what with the "church" bell about to ring.

Opie stepped closer, his knees bending and he squatted down to examine her hand. "I know you're bound by being property and all but," he said looking up at her apologetically as he gently took her by the wrist of the bloody finger, tilting her hand more upwards in the hopes that the bleeding would lessen. She couldn't even talk to him, and both of them knew that he definitely shouldn't have been touching her, it didn't' matter why. But he wanted to help her, he looked so concerned. "I'm all you've got right now and you're going to have to tell me what happened."

Well, okay…the last thing she needed was one of Tig's worried brothers, whom she shouldn't have been talking to, to call 911 for her paper-cut. But, how did she pantomime "I got a paper-cut on my finger from the rolodex and I was trying to get a pointy cup?" She opened her mouth to try to explain, but she felt so unsure, and all she could think about was how Tig would react if he found out she'd been talking to Opie…he'd be so pissed off. But that wouldn't be the worst of it; he'd also be disappointed in her, and after he'd been so obviously proud of her with how she'd carried herself around the club…no, she wouldn't do it; she wouldn't betray her man like that. She sighed, closed her mouth again and shook her head at Opie, giving her shoulders a subtle shrug; this was out of her control, she couldn't talk to him, and she wouldn't.

But instead of being frustrated with her, or threatening her, or anything that Joss had expected out of someone who she assumed was the reason for Tig's sleepless nights, Opie just looked up at her with more concern, understanding that he was on his own in trying to figure this out, and carefully began to touch and inspect each of her fingers. Joss felt herself turn to ice, now he was touching her with both his hands! She had to make this stop, this was not allowed; Tig would be all over her if he knew. She went to pull her hand back from Opie, her erratic movement getting her blood on his fingers now, but just as she did, he spoke again.

"I'm not going to tell Tig you talked to me," he said, still trying to determine what kind of damage she'd done to her hand. "I know you don't know me, but you can trust me, I just want to help you."

Could she trust him? It was a little unsettling that he said she could. You could never trust anyone who said you could trust them; that Joss knew. That's one of the things that had drawn her to Tig, he never said anything about it being okay to trust him, he never made any promises that he'd take care of her and love her forever; he gave her no false hopes, and in that same way, he never lied to her either. But there was something in the way that Opie looked up at her, holding her bleeding hand so kindheartedly, his eyes so…open…well, of course they were open, but it was like he was letting her see everything, not hiding a thing from her. Maybe he was what he said he was; maybe she could talk to—fuck that! If he really wanted to help her, and not put her in this type of conspicuous situation, he'd stand up right this minute and just go and get her old man, the one she was property of! Oh…but assuming there was some kind of conflict between him and Tig, if she were Opie, would she go rushing into the chapel, alerting Tig, when his old lady's blood was on her hands? Hmm…this was a real stalemate.

Opie still held her hand, so tenderly, but he sighed, looked away like he wished things were different and nodded his head. "Okay, you're right, and I do respect your loyalty to Tig." He said then looked back at her again, his eyes holding hers like she'd won this one, but he wasn't giving up. He smiled like he had so many hopes, drawing back from her just enough to shake his head slowly and gaze at her like he was staring at her from across a crowded room. "It's really a beautiful thing, he's a lucky guy."

Joss stiffened in the chair, wondering what might come next, this was beginning to feel a little bit…well, she didn't know exactly. Her experience with men was nothing but a bunch of fucked up shit. Until Tig, but even that had not and never would resemble any kind of courtship that was easily recognizable to most people. She could only nod, and sit there bleeding and waiting for this to take some kind of more ominous turn that she'd have no trouble comprehending.

Opie turned her hand over, looking at her palm now. "So, can you let me know if it's bad, at least?" He asked, the blood on his fingers now staining her palm as he searched for some obvious laceration. Joss shook her head, trying once again to pull her hand out of his, but Opie held it tighter. "Wait, wait, wait," he said quickly, increasing the contact between his hand and hers until he was now holding it as if they were about to get up and walk away together. "Let me get the first aid kit Gemma keeps in here, it's the least I can do." He smiled and laughed a bit at her apprehension she guessed. He let go of her hand, rising and going over to the filing cabinet, opening the top drawer and taking out an old metal tool box. He opened that, gathering gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and a band-aid. "I'm used to doing this," he said to her as he gathered all of the needed materials. "I'm a single dad, now. My little boy, he's been trying these crazy stunts on his Huffy, always skinning his knees." He kind of laughed again, opening the hydrogen peroxide and pouring it carefully onto the gauze pad he held, then turned back to her and squatted down in front of Joss again, taking her hand in his once more. "Let's get you cleaned up," he smiled, his eyes looking up into hers and just continuing to look into hers even as Joss felt the cool dampness of the gauze pad being wiped over her fingers. "You seem like a really nice girl," Opie said, his voice a little lower in volume and smoother in tone now, like he was saying something just for her to hear. "I hope we can get to know each other."