How Defenseless You Really Are
Title: How Defenseless You Really Are
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Sons Of Anarchy
Pairing: Chibs/Tig
Warnings: Self harm
Spoilers: Major spoilers for the last two episodes of season one.
Notes: I really like exploring Tig's character and this episode broke my heart.
Prompt: Worried at otp_100
Summary: Chibs knows something is wrong with Tig and goes to find out what exactly is up with the Sergeant-At-Arms.
The glass gives way under his forehead. He looks at his reflection for a moment, seeing the blood drip down his face, but not really feeling it. The pain doesn't register either. He's too numb with the alcohol and the pills he washed down with it. He makes his way back into the bedroom and sits on the end of his bed, a bottle of whiskey held loosely in his fingers. He hears the front door open and a familiar voice calling out his name, but he can't find it in himself to focus on anything now.
There a light touch of fingers on his forehead, a hand tilting his chin up, and then he's blinking up at Chibs' concerned gaze.
Chibs shakes his head. “What have you done to yourself, brother?”
Tig doesn't answer him, isn't sure he's even capable of answering him right now. The haze of whiskey and narcotics make it hard to think at all, much less clearly.
Chibs disappears for a moment before returning with a wet washcloth and dabbing the blood away from his face. His touch is firm but gentle as he keeps a hand on Tig's chin, cleaning the cuts. Tig frowns when Chibs tugs the bottle of whiskey away from him.
“You've had enough, brother.” Chibs disappears with that too and Tig can hear the slosh of liquid as it goes down the drain. He thinks maybe he should be irritated about that, but he can't really care.
He keeps replaying the scene over and over again in his head. Pulling up behind Opie's truck, shooting through the back window, pulling up beside it and seeing Donna there instead. The guilt that had crawled up his throat, thick and gagging him. It burns through his veins now. He can feel it getting worse with every beat of his heart.
His breathing speeds up, his heart racing, pounding in his ears. It's all his fault. He's never made a mistake like this before. Never killed the wrong person before. The rush of blood thunders in his ears and everything's moving, the room spinning around him.
“Hey, hey, Tig. Look at me, brother. Look at me. It's okay. It's alright.” A calm, steady voice reaches though the fog around him and he looks up and there's Chibs again. He cups Tig's face, hands cool against Tig's overheated skin. Tig realises he's on his knees on the floor. When did he get there? Chibs pulls him up and sits him back down on the bed.
“It's my fault.” Tig forces out through numb lips.
“What's your fault?” Chibs strokes the line of Tig's cheekbones with his thumbs.
“Donna. My fault.” Tig gasps out. His chest feels too tight.
“It wasn't your fault, Tig. Gangster SUV? Probably the Niners. Calm down.” Chibs soothes, voice low and soft.
“No, no, no. It was me. I stole the SUV, I shot her. It was supposed to be Opie. He's a rat. Working for ATF. Clay and I decided we couldn't risk the club. It was supposed to be Opie in the truck. Why wasn't he in the truck?” It spills out of Tig in a rush, the words tumbling over each other in his haste to get them out.
Chibs stares at him in stunned silence. Tig shakes his hands off of him, unable to bear his touch any longer.
“I didn't know it was her until it was too late. I didn't know, Chibs.” Tig's voice is desperate, even to his own ears.
“What have you done, Tig?” Chibs steps away from him.
“I didn't know.” Tig says again, unsure if he's trying to convince himself or Chibs of this fact.
Chibs sighs above him, hands returning to stroke Tig's hair. “We'll get through this, just like everything else, brother.”
Tig looks at him, eyes suspiciously wet. “How?”
Chibs pulls him into a hug, cradling the back of his head. “I don't know, but we will, I promise.”
Tig gives a harsh laugh, pushing back from Chibs, wiping at his eyes. “Don't make promises you can't keep.”
Chibs watches him silently, not knowing how to reply to that. Tig seems a bit more sober than when he got here, the adrenaline from his minor panic attack clearing some of the alcohol from his system.
“What are you doing here anyway?” Tig asks, frowning up at Chibs.
“I was worried about you, brother.” Chibs lightly traces the cuts on Tig's forehead.
Tig pushes his hand away. “I don't need you to be worried about me.”
“Too bad. You've got me here now, so you might as well talk to me.” Chibs sits down next to him on the bed.
“What's there to say? I killed her, I fucked up. I made a mistake that cost an innocent her life.” Tig buries his face in his hands, voice muffled.
Chibs rubs a hand down Tig's back. “We'll figure out a way to make this right.”
Tig laughs hollowly. “The only way to make this right is to let Opie put a bullet in my head.”
“Well, that's not going to happen, so we'll just have to think of something else.” Chibs says, hand still rubbing Tig's back in slow circles.
“It's what should happen. If I were any sort of decent human being, I would tell him and let him kill me.” Tig scrubs a hand down his face.
“Lucky for you, you're not a decent person, Tig. Now stop talking like that, alright?” Chibs scolds.
“Why do you care? You should want to kill me for this too. I killed Opie's wife, goddamn it!” Tig jumps to his feet and paces frantically in front of Chibs.
Chibs sighs and stands up, stepping in front of Tig and putting his hands on his shoulders. “It was an accident. A horrible accident, but an accident all the same. We need you, Tig. I need you, okay? So don't fall apart on us, on me, now, okay?”
Tig stares at him. “How can you say that after you know what I've done?”
“Because I see the way it's eating you up inside. Someone has to look after you, Tig. You'd do a shit job of it if it were left up to you.” Chibs cups his face gently.
Tig sighs, leaning into Chibs' hold. “How do I fix this?”
“I don't know right now, but we'll figure it out.” Chibs kisses him softly, chastely, just a brush of lips.
Tig wraps his arms around Chibs' waist and buries his face in his neck. Chibs holds him, swaying slightly as he feels Tig take a shuddering breath against his skin.
“We'll get through this, aye?” Chibs turns his head and kisses the side of Tig's neck.
“Yeah, okay.” Tig nods.
He can make it through this. He will make it through this. Just as long as he has Chibs to hold him together.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Sons Of Anarchy
Pairing: Chibs/Tig
Warnings: Self harm
Spoilers: Major spoilers for the last two episodes of season one.
Notes: I really like exploring Tig's character and this episode broke my heart.
Prompt: Worried at otp_100
Summary: Chibs knows something is wrong with Tig and goes to find out what exactly is up with the Sergeant-At-Arms.
The glass gives way under his forehead. He looks at his reflection for a moment, seeing the blood drip down his face, but not really feeling it. The pain doesn't register either. He's too numb with the alcohol and the pills he washed down with it. He makes his way back into the bedroom and sits on the end of his bed, a bottle of whiskey held loosely in his fingers. He hears the front door open and a familiar voice calling out his name, but he can't find it in himself to focus on anything now.
There a light touch of fingers on his forehead, a hand tilting his chin up, and then he's blinking up at Chibs' concerned gaze.
Chibs shakes his head. “What have you done to yourself, brother?”
Tig doesn't answer him, isn't sure he's even capable of answering him right now. The haze of whiskey and narcotics make it hard to think at all, much less clearly.
Chibs disappears for a moment before returning with a wet washcloth and dabbing the blood away from his face. His touch is firm but gentle as he keeps a hand on Tig's chin, cleaning the cuts. Tig frowns when Chibs tugs the bottle of whiskey away from him.
“You've had enough, brother.” Chibs disappears with that too and Tig can hear the slosh of liquid as it goes down the drain. He thinks maybe he should be irritated about that, but he can't really care.
He keeps replaying the scene over and over again in his head. Pulling up behind Opie's truck, shooting through the back window, pulling up beside it and seeing Donna there instead. The guilt that had crawled up his throat, thick and gagging him. It burns through his veins now. He can feel it getting worse with every beat of his heart.
His breathing speeds up, his heart racing, pounding in his ears. It's all his fault. He's never made a mistake like this before. Never killed the wrong person before. The rush of blood thunders in his ears and everything's moving, the room spinning around him.
“Hey, hey, Tig. Look at me, brother. Look at me. It's okay. It's alright.” A calm, steady voice reaches though the fog around him and he looks up and there's Chibs again. He cups Tig's face, hands cool against Tig's overheated skin. Tig realises he's on his knees on the floor. When did he get there? Chibs pulls him up and sits him back down on the bed.
“It's my fault.” Tig forces out through numb lips.
“What's your fault?” Chibs strokes the line of Tig's cheekbones with his thumbs.
“Donna. My fault.” Tig gasps out. His chest feels too tight.
“It wasn't your fault, Tig. Gangster SUV? Probably the Niners. Calm down.” Chibs soothes, voice low and soft.
“No, no, no. It was me. I stole the SUV, I shot her. It was supposed to be Opie. He's a rat. Working for ATF. Clay and I decided we couldn't risk the club. It was supposed to be Opie in the truck. Why wasn't he in the truck?” It spills out of Tig in a rush, the words tumbling over each other in his haste to get them out.
Chibs stares at him in stunned silence. Tig shakes his hands off of him, unable to bear his touch any longer.
“I didn't know it was her until it was too late. I didn't know, Chibs.” Tig's voice is desperate, even to his own ears.
“What have you done, Tig?” Chibs steps away from him.
“I didn't know.” Tig says again, unsure if he's trying to convince himself or Chibs of this fact.
Chibs sighs above him, hands returning to stroke Tig's hair. “We'll get through this, just like everything else, brother.”
Tig looks at him, eyes suspiciously wet. “How?”
Chibs pulls him into a hug, cradling the back of his head. “I don't know, but we will, I promise.”
Tig gives a harsh laugh, pushing back from Chibs, wiping at his eyes. “Don't make promises you can't keep.”
Chibs watches him silently, not knowing how to reply to that. Tig seems a bit more sober than when he got here, the adrenaline from his minor panic attack clearing some of the alcohol from his system.
“What are you doing here anyway?” Tig asks, frowning up at Chibs.
“I was worried about you, brother.” Chibs lightly traces the cuts on Tig's forehead.
Tig pushes his hand away. “I don't need you to be worried about me.”
“Too bad. You've got me here now, so you might as well talk to me.” Chibs sits down next to him on the bed.
“What's there to say? I killed her, I fucked up. I made a mistake that cost an innocent her life.” Tig buries his face in his hands, voice muffled.
Chibs rubs a hand down Tig's back. “We'll figure out a way to make this right.”
Tig laughs hollowly. “The only way to make this right is to let Opie put a bullet in my head.”
“Well, that's not going to happen, so we'll just have to think of something else.” Chibs says, hand still rubbing Tig's back in slow circles.
“It's what should happen. If I were any sort of decent human being, I would tell him and let him kill me.” Tig scrubs a hand down his face.
“Lucky for you, you're not a decent person, Tig. Now stop talking like that, alright?” Chibs scolds.
“Why do you care? You should want to kill me for this too. I killed Opie's wife, goddamn it!” Tig jumps to his feet and paces frantically in front of Chibs.
Chibs sighs and stands up, stepping in front of Tig and putting his hands on his shoulders. “It was an accident. A horrible accident, but an accident all the same. We need you, Tig. I need you, okay? So don't fall apart on us, on me, now, okay?”
Tig stares at him. “How can you say that after you know what I've done?”
“Because I see the way it's eating you up inside. Someone has to look after you, Tig. You'd do a shit job of it if it were left up to you.” Chibs cups his face gently.
Tig sighs, leaning into Chibs' hold. “How do I fix this?”
“I don't know right now, but we'll figure it out.” Chibs kisses him softly, chastely, just a brush of lips.
Tig wraps his arms around Chibs' waist and buries his face in his neck. Chibs holds him, swaying slightly as he feels Tig take a shuddering breath against his skin.
“We'll get through this, aye?” Chibs turns his head and kisses the side of Tig's neck.
“Yeah, okay.” Tig nods.
He can make it through this. He will make it through this. Just as long as he has Chibs to hold him together.