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 42

Tig woke feeling much more like eighty-two instead of forty-two. He was still lying in a heap on top of Joss, both of them on the bathroom floor. His head ached, so did his back…fucking floor. Christ…if he was sleeping on the bathroom throw rugs, while holding Joss pinned against the floor, then last night was no dream…that shit really went down. Fuck! He didn't want to remember it, but he knew he was going to. He'd start drinking now if it weren't for everything that he'd be needed for by the club today…why'd it have to be today? And why'd there have to be a 'last night?'

Joss didn't stir when he'd moved to sit up and get off of her, the weave of his shirt imprinted onto her arms and part of her face, the portion of her crookedly bent neck red in some places, and black and blue in others. She still lay as she'd fallen the night before, mouth still open in mid wail it seemed, her hands still clenched stiffly into claws…Tig's blood dried at the end of every one of her fingers, his blood on her lips, smeared across her cheek up towards her eyes that were streaked and completely covered in the mess her eye liner and mascara had become in the fray. There was so much black shadowing the sockets of her eyes, she looked like had sunglasses on. The long silky tresses of her black hair were a static-filled mess standing away from her head in places like some electric current was running through her body. And her skin, the only color it had was bruises and his blood that stained it. He'd always sworn he'd never hit her, never hurt her, and somehow, he'd kept that promise to himself, doing nothing more than subduing her, despite feeling like she'd killed him, like she'd shot him through the heart with that Glock he'd taught her to shoot, and let everything that he'd learned to let her be to him, and accept his feelings for her as, bleed out of him until he was emptier than empty inside.

He didn't worry about whether Joss was alive or not, he knew she was; it had actually been the pounding of her heart that had awakened him. One look at how still she was, compared against the rapid rate of her heart told Tig everything he needed to know. She wasn't dead, she wasn't passed out; she was in a catatonic state. He'd never seen her do this before and to his knowledge, this was the first time something had wrecked her so bad mentally that she couldn't go on, but Tig accusing her of betraying of him, of betraying their love, with Opie, had bombed the hell out of her consciousness until none of it remained. Her very first catatonic state, brought on by the horror of his belief that she'd do such a thing to him, to them. And she was catatonic; yup, it had been hard to tell given the amount of black smeared across her face, but those green eyes were open, staring off at something she couldn't even see right now…Joss was far far away, trapped inside herself, the last desperate refuge of a shattered mind. This was lasting a lot longer for Joss than it had for him the last time, but then, he'd hit her with some pretty big shit last night after they'd left the party. But now Tig had the answer he sought concerning it all, and it both made him overjoyed and repentantly horrified with himself. Joss hadn't betrayed him. His sweet, dark, perfect little angel was innocent.

But at what cost had he pushed to find out? How long was she going to lay there like this, frozen inside the havoc he'd set forth within her? She was outwardly strong, always had been better with people than he had, everyone noticed his damages, they were right there on the surface, but Joss was still able to hide hers; but she was frail nonetheless. And now, because of him, catatonia was one more thing that could be added to the list of her fragilities. She'd been like that all night; he himself had gone seventeen hours once, or so Clay had told him, right after Donna had been driving that truck. Tig hadn't meant to hurt Donna, he never wanted to hurt Donna…but he had, and that reality imploded within his sanity, like a tidal wave that crashed down on his psyche, sweeping everything away and holding him submerged within its depths until he could deal with it again…he was innocent of having meant to kill Donna…just like Joss was innocent of having anything going on with Opie behind his back. But Jesus fucking Christ…what if she never came out of this now; Tig knew it was possible.

He didn't even remember the words that doctor bitch had said to him about Joss and Opie, Tig only remembered what they'd meant. He had to do something, he couldn't just go on the good faith that Joss would never cut out on him, that would have destroyed him in the eyes of this club and every other MC there was. He was SAMCRO's SAA, that alone made it a death sentence for him, and the club, to be perceived as having "gone soft." Not to mention the reputation he'd spent years building for himself; he couldn't let something like this tarnish that. He'd scared, hurt and pissed off far too many people; if it looked like he couldn't take care of his own household, then he'd be dead for sure.

If he were a man…no, if he weren't a man in love, Joss would be dead right now instead of catatonic on the floor. Through the eyes of those that lived this life, just the very suggestion that an old lady, particularly property, was giving it away to another man was grounds to put a bullet in her head, without any proof of it needed at all. Tig could have done that; there wouldn't have been anything anyone could say badly about him if he did! But right now, he didn't care what anyone thought about him, he didn't care that even though Joss was innocent, there wouldn't be any blame placed on him for having roughed her up, it was his right, he owned her, he could beat the fuck out of her any time he'd like to without needing a fucking reason, and no one could tell him otherwise about doing it. But it didn't matter now, his rep wasn't damaged, but Joss may have been…he just wanted her to come out of this.

Chapter 42; Part 2

"Tell me about Opie." He hadn't talked to her the whole way out of the clubhouse, or on the way home, not even when they'd gotten into the driveway and walked into the house. He'd just grabbed Joss by the patch and dragged her everywhere he went, taking her into their bedroom now, where finally he spoke.

He'd watched her shrivel up inside at his question, her expressions rapidly changing, an amalgam of everything she didn't want to tell him, standing there barely able to breathe. "It's nothing."

"My ass, it's nothing!" He'd replied curtly, stepping closer to her and leaning over her despite how scared he knew she was already. "Why the fuck you protecting him, Joss? What, you suckin' his dick or something?"

She shook physically, held up her hands to him. "No! I swear to God, Tig! Why do you think I'd do that to you?"

He hadn't given her that long to talk or explain anything before he'd grabbed her by the throat and slammed her back against the wall, holding her there a lot more viciously than the last time he'd done it to her. "Listen to me," he loudly growled; his face in hers. "I know! He's been hanging around you all fucking night, staring at you, touching you, getting you water, whispering little promises in your ear!" The words coming out of his mouth were fueling Tig's already napalm like anger and he tightened his grip on Joss's throat, pulling her away from the wall for a split second before slamming her back against it even harder this time, his voice even louder, "why the fuck is he doing that, you little cunt?"

Joss was now crying so hard she was beginning to hyperventilate, and it didn't help that he was likely cutting off a lot of her oxygen too, but Tig couldn't stop, was surprised that he'd been able to hold himself back even this much. Her make-up was smudged across her face, her cheeks and forehead turning red. "I don't know." She'd barely been able to reply.

He'd been ready for her to deny all knowledge of anything Opie was doing, anyone who was fooling around with anyone always did that. And that Joss with her "I don't know" answer was heading down that exact path, and it really set Tig off. He pulled her away from the wall, still holding her throat, and then threw her to the ground, standing over her as she coughed and gasped. "I told you," he shouted down at her, pointing his finger at her with each word as if he were whipping her with something. "You tell me if there were any problems with him!" And he had, and the little bitch had nodded her head and said, "yes," she'd do just that. So why hadn't she? Because there had been no problems with what Opie was doing; that was the only explanation. Joss wanted Opie's attentions, she enjoyed them, had convinced Tig of her love and loyalty and perfection, and all the while smiles and words and other decadences more heinous than that had been shared with Opie…and she'd made Tig love her for it! He kicked at her, somehow not able to hurt her still, though she'd hurt him much deeper than he'd ever been hurt before this, his foot connecting with her hip, but instead of bringing the brutality he'd wanted to take to her, all he'd done was flip her over from where she'd tried to hide from him, face down on the carpet. "Why didn't you tell me?" He raged, crouching over her like a lion with a gazelle clamped in its mouth. "Why? Because you didn't want your little bitch boyfriend to get fucked up, is that it?"

Joss somehow found the strength to lift her shoulders up off of the floor, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "I couldn't tell you," she said, didn't yell, but just said, tears everywhere on her face. "I wanted to, but I couldn't."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Tig exploded with the question, shoving her hard into the floor, her head bouncing off of the carpet once, and somehow he managed to be grateful the carpet was there. Why did he care? What? Did some part of him believe her? Or did he just want to believe her, because it hurt too fucking much have to believe she'd do this to him instead? Or was she only trying to distract him? To make him feel like her fucking Opie was really somehow his own fault? How fucking dare she even make him think that's what she was doing! That little bitch…he'd told her when he'd given her his patch, begged her, "don't make me regret this," and now she had! Tig was so angry and blinded in his pain that he couldn't think about anything anymore, he couldn't fathom why she'd said anything she'd said, or what it meant, he only remembered he'd always known he'd never be able to hurt her…and at that moment, he really wished he could!

He was missing a substantial chunk of time after that thought, along with a lot of the words he said, but he'd done, or said, something that pushed Joss over her edge, and through her tears and her hyperventilating breaths, he'd heard her exhale slowly and lowly, a guttural sound emanating from her throat that he hadn't quite herd ever before; beginning as some low, malevolent rumble but ending up some long, painful, cry of a wounded animal. She was trembling, shaking like something was about to explode out of her. Her mouth opened, eyes squeezed shut, and she screeched, louder than anything he could remember hearing ever in his life, eyes glassy, teeth bared, each finger arched into a weapon, and from the ground below him, Joss managed a vicious swipe at him, connecting with his cheek and tearing through his skin, leaving three perfect claw marks that stretched from his nose to lower jaw. His blood dripped down against her face and chest, but she took notice, she was no longer Joss, there was nothing left other than some…angry, terrified, wounded beast.

Shit! In his own berserk-ness, Tig had forgotten all about the spider monkey, but here it was, and he had to get away from it before it sliced him up. She was stronger than she normally was when it took her, like she changed into something brought out by the full moon, and the way she was wailing and flailing her arms, faster than he was able to pin them down, Tig knew retreat was the only option. He'd pushed her down, hard, hearing her head thump against the carpet again, a little harder this time, and then scrambled for the closest exit, which was the bathroom, ducking and rolling into it and slamming the door shut behind him, reaching up and turning the lock. His face burned like Joss had taken a blow torch to it, and he was still so angry and so hurt himself, but also frustrated. But now, there was some brief and odd sanctuary from the madness; Tig able to begin to think a little now that Joss was no longer in front of him. But she was still there, beating on the bathroom door like a lunatic woman, screeching and wailing and probably saying something that no one could have interpreted due to the high pitches of her voice. Fuck! He hadn't seen this coming…but why? He knew it was in her, he'd seen it before…it was the very reason that she'd been sold and traded around by so many clubs so many times…she was an amazingly beautiful girl, but when she got angry…and then Tig realized why the transformation had come as such a surprise. Joss only went spider monkey when she was angry, so angry that she couldn't contain it, and it just exploded into some treacherous energy that took her over. But she hadn't been angry, never once even tried to defend herself, or Opie, in what she'd said. She hadn't even denied anything. If she'd had something to hide, she wasn't doing the generic kind of stuff guilty parties did.

The bathroom door reverberated against his back with both Joss's drumming fists and her screeches and wails, Tig trying to catch his breath and make sense of this, wondering if he'd just made a mistake, wondering if doctor bitch had said what she had only to cause problems for Joss tonight after the disagreement the girls had apparently had. Fuck! Hadn't he sworn he'd try to think about shit with Joss before he just acted out? What the hell had happened to that?

And then another terrifying thought occurred to him, and this one needed no speculation…the banging on the door behind him had stopped, and there were now footsteps bounding away from that door, out of the bedroom and bump, bump, bumping down the hall…to the other bathroom door! Fuck! He quickly lunged for that door, managing to catch the handle and slam it closed, but not fast enough, Joss bursting through it, black hair flying, black, eyeless sockets above a mouth full of teeth, the claws of the other hand digging into his neck, pushing him backwards as she dove on him, his arms instinctively going up to shield his eyes and face, and Joss, like a horror movie zombie, bit him on the forearm, sinking her teeth in deep and trying to bite out a chunk, all but kneeling on top of him as she still tried to wail and screech with a her teeth embedded in his arm, so focused on removing at piece of him that Tig was able to frantically shift his weight and quickly flip her to her back, rounding up her slashing claws as he pushed his forearm into her mouth until she gagged and spit it out, blood everywhere, but he had no time to think about it. He managed to keep her still somehow, standing half way up, and putting his knee down on her neck, keeping her staked to the ground with all his weight…until Joss no longer moved. The spider monkey quieted, went rigid and stiff, but it was still in Joss's face as she lay there. This was different from the other times Tig had seen it happen, much crazier and much hungrier to cause hurt and pain than ever before…because mirrored what she was feeling inside. No, this time it hadn't been about anger. It had been about a broken heart.

Chapter 42; Part 3

Tig hoped the bathroom door leading out into the hallway was sufficiently braced. The bathroom door leading into the bedroom was easy, he'd just moved the headboard and the bed in front of it; there was no opening that door from inside the bathroom. But the hallway door…well, he'd tried to nail it shut, Joss was still good and catatonic, so it wasn't like the banging was going to "wake" her…although, it would have been nice if something did.

The damn door frame itself was some kind of cheap ass pressed wood, and the nails he hammered into it only popped out again when a little force was applied to the door, and he knew Joss would be out and running free in no time that way. He couldn't account for how or when she'd come to, or what she'd be when she did, and there was no way he was letting her leave the confines of the bathroom, for her own safety. He'd removed everything he could fathom her hurting herself with, just incase in his absence, she turned her heartbroken rage on herself. He'd even cut her fingernails as she lay there, noticing that she was in Counterhold, her catatonic state making her resist whatever directional movement he tried to push or pull her into, her clawed up hands only retracting closer towards her body the more he pulled at her wrists. He wasn't sure what that meant, if it was good or bad, because he'd been told that his symptoms were sitting just like a stone, no movement at all. Joss would be angry with him for ruining her beautiful black manicure, but if it meant stopping her from digging her eyes out, it was worth it.

But the hallway door…that was still something Tig didn't feel secure about. Nails hadn't worked, glue was a stupid idea, but then, so was the chair he'd tucked under the doorknob and balanced on two legs in the hall. He'd wrapped six bungee cords around the doorknob itself, putting what he hoped would be equal tension to both the left and the right so that if Joss did come out of and grab the doorknob, it wouldn't turn. He owed it to her to keep her safe…given what he'd done to her…this time. There was nothing more he could do for as far as the catatonia, she'd come out of it…he hoped, she just had to be kept secure. But making her catatonic wasn't the worst of what he'd done…he'd doubted her, and he'd accused her, he'd believed that she'd betrayed him, and that had broken her, heart and mind.

Tig wished he could have stayed, just sat there on the floor with her and waited for her to come to, but the club needed him. In a way, that was good. There was no distracting him from this, but it did give him some way to try and make this up to Joss, he'd fight valiantly for her out there today, maintain the club, maintain his life with her…and Jesus fucking Christ, that's what Tig wanted most of all! She was innocent, she wouldn't have snapped like this if she wasn't. It hadn't been fear for her life at having had some affair with Opie being discovered; he'd already seen Joss when she believed that Tig had come to collect from Jax's old bedroom, take her away and kill her, she was fretful and crying then, but there was no spider monkey, no mental break. No, her current state hadn't been promoted by any fear; it was about heartbreak. And that Tig understood.