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 46

"Tig," Clay moved forward, his hand on Tig's good shoulder as Tig crouched there, his hand on the back of Joss's head, and his blue eyes glaring at Opie. "You need a hospital."

"No," Tig answered, glancing at Joss who was trying to get control of herself, but she couldn't yet, kept rocking, but stiffened her neck now in an effort to keep her own head from hitting the wall. He gave her a small, understanding nod, then his eyes went angrily right back to Opie. "I'm good."

"Go, man." Opie insisted, glancing at Tig's blood soaked shirt sleeve. "You've been bleeding for quite awhile, I don't know why you're still conscious."

Tig's stare became more intense, anger bristling to the bursting point. Opie should have backed the fuck off awhile ago; couldn't he see that Tig had this? Tig could take care of Joss, and he was the only one here whose right it was to do so to begin with. Shit, Clay loved the girl like a daughter, but even he respected what was Tig's in the sense of property and responsibility. Opie…Tig would fucking kill Opie. "And after I leave, then what?" There was nothing special about the words, nothing threatening, but Tig's tone couldn't have been anymore malicious, or his eyes any colder. Opie's stitches had been out for a few days now, but he looked like he was in need of new ones…in a big "Y" pattern…given on an autopsy table. "What are you going to try with her then?"

Opie furrowed his brow and drew back a bit as if trying to avoid being hit. He looked at Joss then looked back at Tig with a stare heavier than a Crescent Wrench and darker than Joss's raven hair. "I never did anything to her."

Tig shook his head, so angry he couldn't get it to show properly on his face, and there was the most misplaced sadness coming up inside from out of nowhere too. He looked at Joss, who was watching him concernedly, trying to speak again, but her mind and body still not meshed together quite enough to allow her to. Tig sighed as he looked at her, pushing her hard against the wall and holding her rocking form still a moment, and trying to reach up to gently stroke his hand over her long, frazzled hair, but between the damage from Joss's teeth and the bullet, that arm was now too fatigued and hurt far too much to raise that high. He groaned with the ache of it all, the pain beginning to find him now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He let go of Joss, who immediately began to rock again, trying to stop, but not able to. His poor, dark, sweet angel…she hadn't deserved anything that had happened to her…some of it was also on Tig, for his snap-to reaction and irrepressible temper, but he never would have raged at Joss if it hadn't have been for doctor bitch, who was only reporting on what she'd seen…Tig looked back at Opie, shaking his head. "The fuck you didn't, man." Fuck, why'd he sound like Opie had just run over his dog when what he truly felt inside was how much Tig wanted to slam Opie's head into the wall…and then finish him with the Crescent Wrench?

Opie was quiet for a few seconds, the entire clubhouse was quiet, everyone watching this unfold, hearing this happen, and trying to figure it out themselves, but Tig, as well as Opie from the looks of things, took no notice of their audience. Joss must have felt something though, but she couldn't speak, or even get control of her movements, trapped there against the wall, looking like she wanted to touch Tig, to take his hand, but the only thing she could do to express herself was to let herself shake violently all over, rocking back into the wall even harder now, her head bouncing off the paneling so fiercely that Tig's good arm flew up to cup the back of her head with his hand once more, but it did little to cushion the blows, until Opie's hand appeared between the two of them and gently pressed to Joss's forehead, both he and Tig keeping her still. Both men stared at one another for a few more seconds, brothers in the same cause, but divided by so many others.

Opie continued to hold Joss still with Tig, but looked at him with a morose seriousness. "She tell you?" He bit out. "So you roughed her up and now that's my fault?"

"No," The fury that Tig had expected to hear in his voice before was gradually building back into it now, his answer seeming to swipe at Opie's head like a handful of Joss's claws. "She was too scared about what I might think to tell me. I had to find out from," he paused a moment and looked over his shoulder at Jax, whom, though he'd probably never understand why or how, was just as much in the wrong here as was Opie, because Jax didn't have a clue about how to control his old lady. "Tara."

There were a few hissed intakes of breaths and some muttered words, around them all, but no one jumped in, and Opie and Tig continued on, undaunted. "Look," Opie said, shaking his head as he cast another sorry glance at Joss, continuing to help hold her still. "I'm sorry, bro, but it's like I said, I never did anything to her. And she never got out of line with me either, so whatever you did to her—"

"You fucking cocksucker!" Tig exploded, ripping his hand away from Joss in his frenzy, Opie holding her by himself now as Tig pointed frantically to the scratches on his cheek and his neck. "Does this look like I went after her?" He yelled in Opie's face, next yanking the blood soaked shirt sleeve up, and displaying the deep bite wounds on his forearm. "Does this look like I put a hand on her?" He yelled again. "You gave me a reason to accuse her of fucking around with you, and we both know she wasn't! But me even saying that she was, even thinking that she was, broke her!" Tig's throat was beginning to burn with how loudly he was shouting and how deep and gruff his voice was. "You know what my little girl's like, I know you've been watching her, she's beautiful, inside and out, so sweet and so caring and she's gentle," Tig described, mourning all the things that had wrapped his brothers around Joss's little finger, hoping that he could maybe convince his everyone standing around listening that Joss's…outburst was something…acute, brought on by Opie's deviousness. But still Tig couldn't help but wonder if the club would ever see Joss the same way again…now that they'd seen the "spider monkey." Tig felt himself get even more furious with Opie, restraining himself from reaching out to strangle him where he crouched beside Joss. "Do you see this?" He asked of Opie, pointing to the scratches and the bite mark again. "Do you see that?" He asked, pointing over his shoulder at the mutilated body of Agent Stahl. "Do you see her?" He furthered, pointing to Joss, who was still a mute, thrashing mess without the assistance of someone to keep her from putting her head through the paneling. "This shit is all on you!"

Opie closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and kind of shook his head like he didn't want to see any of the things Tig had pointed out to him, but his eyes did open again, and he looked at Joss, right in the eyes one more time and shook his head at her, then swallowed hard. "This wasn't my intention," he said to her, his voice cracking half way through. He looked back at Tig, half trying not let the tears in his eyes show as he sneered, his voice a low, emphatic roar. "I wanted you to suffer, I wanted you to 'break,' not her!"

Tig's heart thundered inside his chest like the whirling blades of a chopper, and he was shaking with the storm seething inside him, but surprised once again at how he didn't lunge for for Opie's throat, hearing himself laughing morbidly instead. "Shit boy," Tig was saying, shaking his own head now. "I'm a smashed box of bone china," he said. "You can't 'break' me anymore than I'm already broke!" Tig laughed again, slowly looking over at his sweet Joss, Opie's hand still gingerly pressed to her brow as she tried to react, tried to understand…she could hear them. Tig's laughter died, and he touched her cheek with the back of his hand on his good arm. His poor, perfect, dark angel…she'd always be perfect in Tig's eyes, even if she was never the same as she was before after this. "All you did was wreck the glue holding me together."

A tear finally broke free of Opie's eye, but a sudden streak of anger followed after it. He ripped his hand from Joss's forehead and it quickly became a fist as he glowered at Tig. "I didn't mean for that to happen!" He growled as loudly as he could. "How was I supposed to know she wouldn't tell you?" He roared.

Tig shuddered with his rage. "How was I supposed to know that Donna'd be driving your truck?" He roared back, the words seeming to lash Opie across his back, made him flinch and nearly fall backwards, Tig braced for some kind of punch to be thrown next, but nothing came…except silence.

It was a few more seconds before Opie looked at Tig and Tig looked at Opie, but when they did, and one stare of anguished disgrace met another stare of anguished disgrace, it was clear that some tacit understanding had suddenly been reached between them, each now having worn the other's shoes, and fighting the same demon. Tig had been deliberate in how he was chasing Opie into this dark corner, boxing him in right where he wanted him in the gloom and disparity of this horrid oubliette, enjoying the knowledge that Opie was now tortured there in that bleakness…but stunned to suddenly realize that another soul also lingered there, impaled on the foul spikes and screaming for mercy…Tig himself was already down there in the filth of guilt and negligence, struggling to claw his own way out. Donna's blood would be on Tig's hands forever, but never as he'd worked to throw Opie down into this little dungeon did he consider he and Opie would end up as cell mates. But they were; they were the same, not outwardly, but this mistake, this destruction of innocents that was never intended, that scorched its brand onto the soul, blackening it forever, was something they shared. Inside, he and Opie were the same thing. There was no more yelling, no more accusations, just the birth of a new brotherhood, that no one wished to belong to.

Opie finally turned his head away from Tig's similar stare and he looked at Joss, whose erratic movement was beginning to subside, Tig knowing exactly what Opie was about to say, and how it felt to say it. "I'm sorry," he was barely able to articulate to her, trying and failing to hold back tears, taking Joss's bloody hands in both of his. "I'm so sorry!"

Chapter 46; Part 2

Jax flipped his phone closed and sighed, looking at Clay. "Tara's on until the sun comes up; she can't get here until then."

"Figures," Clay groaned, standing over where Tig and Opie still crouched down by Joss, who was perfectly still now, not moving at all because she was too exhausted, not able to speak yet either, leaning back against the wall on the verge of sleep. Good, she needed to rest, her mind needed to just shut off for a little while so it could heal up too. Tig envied her, and likely so did Opie; a lot of emotion had crossed wires around here tonight, and no one felt particularly energetic. "C'mon Tig, you can't wait that long, you gotta get that shoulder looked at."

"No," Tig immediately replied, looking away from Joss for a moment and up at Clay. "No way, man, I'm not leaving Joss, and I can't take her with me to Saint Thomas…she'll end up on the fucking fifth floor mental ward!" Fucking doctor bitch! Had Joss been a doctor, on shift at a hospital, and Tig had called her and asked her to come to the clubhouse to help one of his brothers, Joss would have come, her "shift" be damned! And Tig couldn't go to the hospital for so many reasons. First, it would mean he'd have to be treated by doctor bitch herself, and he wasn't sure he could be in the same room with her right now without tying both her tits in a knot, and secondly, if he left for the hospital, that did leave Joss unattended. All available hands were cleaning Stahl up off the floor, hauling her back out to her black sedan, which Happy and Sack were busting up in the appropriate places to correspond with Stahl's…watermelon meets pavement, type of head injuries; the entire crew getting ready to dump the whole package over an embankment nearest the site of the ICE raid…poor June Stahl…died in a tragic accident while in performance of her duties. If Tig left to get medical treatment, Joss was alone, and he couldn't have that, too paranoid and afraid she may slip back into catatonia again.

Clay sighed, looking on at Joss and sighed again, only this time it as more in relief, so glad to see her in a more peaceful, quiet state. He looked back at his SAA. "Tig, don't make me order you to get that shoulder taken care of, cuz I'm on the edge of doin' just that."

Tig exhaled sharply and shook his head, gritting his teeth, but knowing there wasn't much he could do about it if Clay did order him to Saint Thomas. He was okay, at least, he was as okay as he could be for having a decent human bite wound and a gunshot to the same arm…but if Joss wasn't catatonic, and wasn't rocking uncontrollably against the wall, Tig was fucking great! "Clay, I'm beggin' you, man," he said, then looked at Joss, fighting a sudden urge to lay his head in her lap and just curl up to her. "Cut me some fucking slack on this one, please? Someone needs to stay with her, I can't leave her."

Opie looked up, first at Clay then at Tig. "I'll stay with her."

Tig's head jerked towards him suddenly and he scowled. Yeah, they may have understood each other a little better now, but still…"you're more out of you shithole mind than I am!"

"No," Opie shook his head. "C'mon man, you said it yourself, she's like this because of me," He sighed, glanced at Joss with sorry eyes then looked back at Tig. "I just wanna try to make it up to her, at least a little."

But Tig sat there still scowling, more than apprehensive. Leave his recovering Joss with Opie, who had wrecked her worse than what she'd wrecked Stahl? Right! "No," he answered flatly. "The shoulder's not that big a deal, I've had worse and waited longer to get it fixed up."

A small audience had gathered, Chibs standing beside Jax with a sledge hammer in his hands that he was about to take outside to the sedan when the conversation had distracted him. "Tig," he said. "I'll watch yer girl with him, seen this shite before in the SAS vets, soomethin' happens, we'll call yeh ferst thing." He said, looking over at Opie, a moment. "Yeh've got yer reasons naught ta troost Opie, we nuu that, but yeh've nuu reason naught ta troost meh."

Tig looked at Chibs, wishing he could disagree with that, but he couldn't, and Clay knew it too. Chibs did have army medic experience, Tig wouldn't be leaving Joss in the care of just anyone, like Opie, but fuck…the other reason that Tig hadn't wanted to leave Joss was…just that, he didn't want to leave Joss. He wanted to be close to her, he wanted to have her head nestled against his chest, that she loved to kiss and touch so much, and know that she was shielded in his arms from everything hurtful in the world. She'd get better that way, he knew she would. But there'd be no arguing Clay down now; he was going to the hospital. Tig sighed heavily in defeat, stealing a quick glance at Opie. Maybe he did deserve some small chance to make his apology to Joss? Tig would have given almost anything to have such a chance like that with Donna. "Let me get her off the floor and over onto the couch first." He got to his feet then bent down to Joss, remembering at that point that he was effectively "the one armed man" now, but Clay soon took over.

"I'll get her," Clay said, and stooped over, slipping his arms carefully beneath Joss's bent knees and behind her shoulders, lifting her up easily, and Joss looked so little in Clay's arms…yeah, she should have had a dad like him. She'd hardly stirred as Clay had lifted her, her head falling against Clay's shoulder, and she drew a quiet deep breath, snuggling against him, somehow knowing she was with friends, that she was safe. Tig couldn't help but acknowledge that himself and finally felt like he could leave her, for just a little while. Clay turned with her in his arms, carrying her over to couch where he gently laid her down, "She'll be okay, Tig. Go make sure you are."

Chibs was nodding. "There's naught a one of oos here whoo doesn'a owe the girl for gettin' Stahl ooff our arse," he reminded Tig. "We'll luke after her like a queen."

Chapter 46; Part 3

Joss smelled bleach. Shit…she'd meant to buy laundry detergent at the store this afternoon! Tig didn't like the stuff she'd bought last time, not the way it cleaned, but he said he was tired of the way it smelled…whatever, Tig was Tig and always would be, there wasn't any making him happy, unless of course, there was…and if it meant buying more laundry detergent even though there was still more than a half a bottle of the other stuff left, Joss would do it. Except that she hadn't…oh fuck…she was going to have to go back to the store now before he came home from work, how had she forgotten to get the detergent? Wait, she never got to the store today…she'd gone riding with Lauren, and then Tig had wanted her home…and then there was the party…and then there was…oh fuck…Joss smelled bleach!

"God damn," her eyes were still closed as she hovered just under the surface of sleep, trying to sort things out before she was awake and would be drawing attention, but she could clearly hear everything around her, and that included Half-Sack's whining and moaning over by the bar. "It's all over the ceiling too! What the fuck?"

"Cast off marks," replied Happy, not nearly as impressed or surprised as the prospect. "You don't swing something like a Crescent Wrench into someone's head the way Joss did without getting them on the ceiling, or whatever wall is behind you," explained a voice of experience.

"Shit! I gotta bleach the ceiling next?" Sack groaned, sounding like he was on the floor by the bar, and there were bristling sounds of a scrub brush coming from his direction as well. Oh no…Joss felt terrible…she'd really made a mess, and now Sack was suffering for it, having to clean that redhaired bitch's remains off of the floor…where had she come from? She seemed to know both Tig and Opie, and also knew a lot about the club…she was probably some FBI bitch, but what was her tie to SAMCRO? Joss was curious about that, but she couldn't find any remorse in having bludgeoned her death…well, almost none, it might have been nice if she didn't exactly go…whatever that madness was…it really did turn her into something she didn't like to associate with herself, but it was in there nonetheless. But other than that, Joss didn't care about killing redhaired bitch…whoever she was…someone's wife? Someone's daughter? Someone's mother? Someone's sister? Fuck the ones redhaired bitch left behind…they should have all taught redhaired bitch better than to shoot Joss's man! But shit…there probably was an awfully big mess to be looked after now.

Happy laughed. "No, you ninny," he sniped at Sack. "We'll just replace the ceiling tiles, there's a few more in the closet of one of the dormitories, we had some left when we finished this place. We'll burn the bloody ones."

Bleach and burning…sulfuric acid…somehow, that mad beast that resided within her had brought her to those things again. Only this time, it wasn't her and Tig cleaning things up and hiding the evidence. Tig…she wished she could have gone with him to the hospital, but he was right, Saint Thomas's staff would have put her in a straight jacket. But she was worried about Tig's shoulder, she was horrified by the scratches on his cheek and neck, and she was regretfully terrified by that bite mark on his arm. Jesus Christ…she'd realized not too long ago that one day she was going to hurt him, and that day had come. He still loved her; that was evident, Joss could feel it coming off of him the moment she was in his arms, and then out again, turned to stone, imprisoned within herself until Tig had given her the strength to bust down those walls. He still loved her, and she still loved him, but she couldn't go on knowing that the next time that beast took her over, Tig could be what it set itself upon. Clay had told her help was out there and then even said he'd make sure she got it if she wanted it. Maybe that was a good idea? Gemma didn't go nuts and kill people, and some day, Joss was going to be what Gemma was now…this had to stop! She never wanted to hurt Tig again, never.

Hmm…yeah, it was really too bad she couldn't go to the hospital with him. He wasn't dying, thank God, Joss knew that, but he was with Tara…wow…that must have been fun to watch…Tara didn't know Tig didn't like to be touched…or that he really wasn't that crazy about her either. Hmm…Tara…how had Tig found out about Opie in the first place?

And Opie…wow…there were some changes there, or some, realizations at least, between Tig and him. It was like they were now two escaped convicts that hated each other, but were handcuffed together and had no choice but to bust out together and were gradually learning that to help themselves, they'd have to help the other in order to flea some common enemy that would otherwise forever keep them imprisoned. Joss didn't understand all of what had gone down between them in the past, and unless one of them ever volunteered the information to her, she knew she likely never would, but what she did know was that Opie was sitting there next to her, looking out for her like he'd told her he would, and staying with her like he'd promised Tig he'd do. Hmm…so, was it okay to trust him yet? She wanted to, Joss had believed he was sorry, and that he hadn't meant to hurt her and that he'd never imagined he would be…he'd gone after her man though, she'd never forgive him for that, but at least she wasn't planning to shoot him, or attack him with a wrench, anymore. He seemed to have his reasons for going after Tig…and he likely did…Tig being…well, Tig.

"Joss?" She heard Opie's voice and he leaned down over her. Oh hell, no wonder she knew that Opie was sitting there beside the couch with her, she'd opened her damn eyes. No, another few minutes, and then she'd be ready to face everyone…but too late. "Joss! Hey!" He smiled at her, he looked so excited and so relieved, like she was something he'd dearly miss if she never woke up again. Opie looked away from her at someone across the clubhouse, but his smile didn't die. "Chibs! She's awake, man!"

Chapter 46; Part 4

Doctor bitch was trying to be all clinical, like she didn't know her patient, but Tig wasn't letting her hide within that. She'd been the one to press play on this whole shit storm, and Tig wanted to make sure she got to know every detail from start to finish. Jesus fucking Christ, what kind of bitch, a grown-ass woman, came tattle-tailing on her best friend about shit she didn't even know to be true? And all because she was having a hard time fitting in, which was her own stupid fucking fault to begin with! Shit, what did Joss see that was so redeemable about doctor bitch? The worthless cunt…

"Ow!" Tig ground out and pulled away, the fat plastic syringe with no needle on the end that doctor bitch had shoved into the hole in his deltoid slipping out violently, falling through doctor bitch's gloved fingers and crashing to the floor. "What the hell are you doing?" He yelled; looking eye to eye with her where he sat on the exam table, doctor bitch's hand just below his shoulder blade as she'd tried to…whatever. "And get your damn hand off of me! I fucking hate that!"

"I'm sorry," doctor bitch did sound a little bit exasperated, but mostly, she was peeing her pants to be in an exam room with Tig, and Bobby as her only protection, and now Tig was yelling at her and being uncooperative. "The bullet went through, but I still have to flush the wound with saline."

Tig made a face, showing his teeth, but not in a smile. "No you don't!" He informed her, cocking his head superiorly. "Bullets are sterile! The whole fucking world knows that; the whole fucking world except for you, anyway!"

"Tig," Bobby grunted and stood against the wall shaking his head, crossing his arms over his big belly. "Jax's old lady, man." He reminded, which was annoying, but yeah…unfortunately, Tig was out of line to be talking to doctor bitch like that…fucking protocols!

Tig huffed, but he didn't look at doctor bitch. "Sorry." He said; then looked at her. "Look, it's been a bad fucking twenty-four hours since I talked to you last," Tig paused a moment and watched doctor bitch's face turn white…really white…like, needed a transfusion white…it was cool! "So just do something for the scratches and the bite wound, and then give me some antibiotics or whatever for the holes in my shoulder, and I'm outta here!" He said, and that really was what he wanted, particularly about the something for the scratches and the bite wound. It wasn't that they were that painful, but more that he knew what it did to Joss when she looked at them. If doctor bitch really was worth anything, why couldn't she do something, or find something, that would just make the scratches and the bite mark go away? "Can you do that, huh? Just stop…fucking touching me, and get me outta here!" He grumbled through clenched teeth, but couldn't resist adding. "If I need real help with the shoulder, Joss can fix it, she can figure out anything; you're not needed." There! That shoulda flushed doctor bitch's saline!

Tig sat back and got ready to watch everything doctor bitch defined herself as being melting off her face in tears, but before it could happen, his cell rang in the pocket of his cut that sat beside him, along with the tattered and bloody blue shirt that Joss always liked him in. "Shit," Tig groaned as he reached for his cut, immediately worried for Joss. He looked at Bobby as he found his phone. "We may have to roll, bro." Bobby nodded, also looking concerned, Tig flipping his phone open and putting it to his ear, his body tense and his mind quaking within his head. "Ope? What is it? She okay?"

"Yeah," Opie answered, but it was difficult for Tig to trust that it was. He'd spent so long now being suspicious of Opie and avoiding him; it was going to take awhile before he was able to relax into being on this terrible, miserable even ground with him, but that's exactly where they were, on even ground, and bound together even more tightly than they had been under their reaper cuts. "Hold on a sec," Opie said to him. "I got someone here who really wants to talk to you."

What the fuck? The confusion and panic must have shown on Tig's face, because Bobby had stepped away from the wall and was leaning over Tig's phone himself now, trying to hear what was going on, until a new voice was heard on the other end of the line, a voice that had been silent when Tig had left. "Tig?"

Tig closed his eyes, not able to beat down the serene smile that overtook him. "Joss!" He answered, his joyous laughter surprising everyone in the room.