Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Sons of Anarchy or the characters or actors therein. I just use them for my own personal benefit.

Juice was clicking his thumbs.

Chibs noticed he did it on occasion—when he was bored, nervous, or deep in thought if he didn't have a bottle to mess with the condensation. The noise used to grate on his nerves—the constant click, click, click, as one thumb knuckle was popped after the other. But now—with it being the only sound in the still-silent atmosphere—he took a bit of comfort in the sound.

He glanced up at the other man and saw his brow furrowed as he stared down at the wooden porch beneath his feet, both hands on his knees as he clicked his thumbs absent-mindedly. Thinking, then.

Chibs pressed his back more firmly against the pillar he was once again leaning against, one leg spread out in front of him and the other bent at the knee. He tilted his head up to try counting the stars once again to alleviate his boredom. He'd done this every night for the past three weeks—you'd think he'd learn to bring something to occupy himself instead of agonizing over the man across from him. Not that he agonized, just—worried.

He was stifling a sigh—after last week's conversation, and he did not want to get into that strange setting again—when Juice said, "I know you were eavesdropping. 'Couple weeks ago. When I was talking to Tig." The clicking abruptly cut off as he spoke, his gaze still on the porch.

He blinked at the suddenness of the statement and fought down the sheepish feeling burning the back of his neck. "Ah. And?"

"And," Juice said, sitting back and mimicking Chibs' posture as he leaned against the opposite pillar, fixing Chibs with a raised eyebrow. "You've obviously been dying to say somethin' since. I can practically hear you thinking and stuttering over whether or not to just get it out. It's almost as obvious as the sighing."

"It is not," Chibs said defensively, flushing and trying where even to start with those statements.

"It really is. And it's gonna keep being as obvious—not only to me, but the club too—the longer you keep it in. So what is it? What's your deal?"

Chibs felt his hackles rising at the sudden onslaught of a conversation he wasn't sure he was ready for. "What is this? Therapy? We gonna talk about our feelings next?"

"If that's what it takes to get you to remove whatever stick you have up your ass when it involves me," Juice snapped back. "I'm just trying to get it out on the table so whatever it is that bothers you about me we can just get the fuck past it. Tig's noticed. Bobby's noticed. Jax is beginning to also, and Clay is next."

Chibs looked away not saying anything, though he'd noticed it too. Tig was hounding him even more, and it was all Chibs could do to avoid Bobby who wanted to talk about it. Chibs restrained an irritated frown. Weren't they supposed to be badass bikers? As far as he knew, badass bikers did not talk about their feelings.

He stayed silent, looking away and ignored the anxious feeling in his gut.

Juice sighed and leaned back once more. Chibs hazard a glance and saw the man looked somewhere between pissed and fed up. "Whatever," he said; pulling what looked like a book Chibs wasn't aware he had from behind him. "I tried."

If Chibs could've, he would've cursed himself in six different languages because Juice didn't speak once more through their shift. Chibs went back to counting the stars and trying to decide if he should try to fix this mess of fuck-up that started with a lack of trust.

*.*.*.*

Chibs opened his eyes to a throbbing headache and blurry vision. He groaned at the flare of pain behind his eyes and tried to lift his hand to his head.

Tried, being the operative key word.

He cursed when he realized his hands were bound behind his back, snarling when he had to blink a trail of blood from his eyes. He blew a hard breath through his nose and tried to calm himself.

Alright, lad. He thought, blinking until his eyes cleared and he could squint through the darkness surrounding him. Think for bloody once.

His eyesight adjusted until he could make out the vague dark shape of his own body. He was lying on his side, cheek pressed against cold concrete and his shoulder going numb from the pressure. Chibs shifted. He tried to look around him but it was no use-he couldn't see a damn thing. And hell if that didn't frustrate him. He shook his head.

He twitched his arms and was thankful that he could. Hadn't been tied up long, then, if he still had some circulation. After a curious nudge, he realized his ankles were bound also and sighed in resignation.

Fan-fucking-tastic. It just figured he'd be tied up and bloody with no clue how.

"Great. Jus' freaking great." Chibs grumbled, shifting again so he could lie on his stomach.

He tensed when he heard a shuffling noise close by. His eyes whizzed around the room, but he still couldn't see a damn thing. Chibs bit down on a curse and moved himself so he could prop himself up on his knees, ears open.

The shuffling noise continued, the sound of fabric grating against the ground. After a moment, a pained groan followed. Chibs said nothing and scooted away from the direction of the noise, eyes narrowed.

Silence. Then, quietly, pained, "Fuckin', mother fuckers. Shit goddamn, damn ouch."

Chibs felt his shoulders relax from their tense position. He never thought he'd be so happy to hear that damned voice. "Juice?" he called out quietly.

More silence. More rustling. Another groan. "No, fuckin' Santa Claus. Shit, Chibs. What happened?"

"Hell if I know." Chibs groaned and tried to inch back into his original position, closer to Juice. He squinted. "Woke up bounded with a bloody poundin' headache and no clue how I got here. You alright?"

More silence and Chibs pushed down the wave of worry at the hesitance in it. "Yeah, I'm good. Leg's busted up some, but I'm alright."

Well, Chibs didn't believe that for a second. But he'd let it slide for the moment. "You remember anythin'? Anythin' at all?"

More rustling, a half-choked off grunt, and muffled panting. Oh yeah, Chibs didn't believe him for a moment. "Nah, man. Last I remember was sitting on the porch."

"Well, that's useful," Chibs said before he could stop himself. He immediately regretted it when quiet filled the room, tense and uncomfortable.

He sighed, finding a wall to lean against and resisted hitting his head against it. "Sorry."

"Yeah," Juice didn't sound like he believed him. "Are you alright? Besides your head."

And now he felt like a right arse. He adjusted his bound legs guiltily. "Yeah. I'm alright."

Chibs was beginning to get real tired of the awkward silences.

"We should-" Juice coughed in the middle of the sentence and Chibs abruptly straightened at the wet sound of it, an icy shiver running down his spine. "Shit," Juice said on a gasp. Chibs was close enough that he could hear him swallow. He tried to move closer.

"Guess it's more than just a busted leg."

Chibs could practically feel the bitch-face. In some fucked up way, it made him have to force down a smile.

"Shut up."

"You gonna die on me?"

"Jesus, no."

Chibs scooted closer. "You sure about that? I'm no doctor, but that sounded like a punctured lung to me."

"Well, it's a good thing you're no doctor then," Juice snapped right next to Chibs' ear. He felt a frission of relief that at least Juice was still there enough to snap at him.

"How about we not do this and focus more on how we're here, where 'here' is, and how we're gonna get out?" Chibs suggested, nudging Juice with his bound feet. Juice jumped in response, and Chibs felt the worry come back when he realized that Juice hadn't even noticed Chibs next to him.

"That'd be nice. Except neither of us know how we got here or where we are. Much less how to get out."

"Well aren't you just an optimistic Olivia."

"Realistic. Try again."

"You had a deprived childhood, didn't ya, laddie?"

"Really? We're gonna do this now?"

"Do what?" Chibs burst out in frustration, clenching his bound hands into fists and digging his nails into his palms.

"This," Juice said again, sounding as if he were chewing out the word. "You, being a dickwad for no apparent reason besides the fact that, oh yeah, you're a dickwad."

"I was just tryin' to figure out something that could help this situation. You're the one getting his knickers in a bloody fucking twist."

"Not now, you Scottish prick," Chibs could hear the sneer and longed to punch it just so Juice wouldn't sound like that. "Since I fuckin' got here. I thought we were alright after our last fuckin' life-threatening incident, but you keep brushing me off and being an asswipe."

Chibs paused. He frowned and shifted uncomfortably, pushing away the rush of guilt and favoring the rise of anger over it. "Did little Juice get his feelings hurt because not everyone wants to be his friend?" Chibs taunted.

Juice made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. "See! That's exactly what I fucking mean! Every time I bring it up, or try to talk to you, or do something you're fucking dickhead pants come out. I don't know what the fuck you're problem is, but it's not my-"

A rush of light, blinding Chibs for a moment as it filled the room, cut Juice off. A door opened and Chibs had to slam his eyes closed against the onslaught of brightness that caused this throbbing head to flare up in spiking pain. Faintly, he could hear Juice issue a small groan.

Chibs pried his eyes open slightly to peer at the shadow in the brightly lit doorway.

"Are you two ladies finished arguing? Because I feel like there's a few things we should discuss."

*.*.*

"Think we should go after him?"

Tig looked up at Bobby to see him staring at the doors Chibs had left through. He shook his head, remembering the look on the other man's face. "Nah," he said. He returned to looking at his boots. "Let him be."

He heard Bobby let out a deep sigh as he took the seat next to him. They were both quiet for a few long minutes, the only noise being the ringing at the receptionists' desk and the muted volume of the TV hanging in the corner echoing through the empty waiting room.

Bobby finally spoke, his voice rough and kind of choked. "What the hell happened?"

Tig didn't say a thing, wondering the exact same thing himself. He'd been asking himself questions of the same variation for the past hour. What happened? Why'd he do it? Why didn't they notice? What was going on? Did Chibs notice? What happened? Why the fuck would Chibs do it?

"You think it was Miles?" Bobby inquired, sounding desperate for some sort of answer. "The Russians? The cartel?"

"I dunno, man." Tig let out a sigh that seemed to rattle in his bones.

"I have no fucking clue, anymore."

*.*.*

Tig's jaw cracked from the yawn he let loose. He could feel his eyes drooping despite the shit ton of crap coffee he'd ingested and rolled his shoulders in wide circles. He opened his eyes as wide as possible, blinking hard.

It didn't help.

He slumped back in the uncomfortable hospital chair with a groan that had Bobby glancing at him from over his newspaper. Tig ignored him in favor of staring at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling rather than the prone figure on the hospital bed in front of him.

His gaze moved towards Juice anyway. He swallowed against a rush of bile when he caught sight of the bruises around the kid's throat and remembered how he looked lying on the ground outside.

Fuck. He couldn't do this.

He stood up, the chair pushing back against the linoleum and making a noise that sounded too loud for the small hospital room. Tig winced and glanced at Juice again-not that it would wake him up or anything.

"Goin' somewhere?" Bobby asked quietly, peering over his reading glasses.

"Yeah," Tig said with a small nod, jerking his head to the side self-consciously and putting his hands on his hips. " Just ah, gonna take a walk. Wake myself up. You know."

Bobby stared at him for a moment longer and Tig did his best to hold his gaze. "Yeah," the other man said at last, quietly. Knowingly. "I get ya'. Go on, then. Maybe while you're up you can see if you can find Chibs. I think he's been in his own head long enough."

"You think being in here will be any better?" Tig asked before he could stop himself and called upon every ounce of willpower he had not to glance at the hospital bed.

"I think that he shouldn't be alone right now." Bobby lifted the paper back up over his face. Vaguely, Tig wondered when he even picked it up. "And neither should you. So find him quickly."

Tig's shoulders hunched and he nodded once, already heading for the door. "Yes, Mom." He muttered.

The paper rustled as Bobby turned a page. "I heard that."

"You were meant to." Tig closed the door quietly on Bobby's tired chuckle. For a moment he just leaned against the closed door, eyes sliding shut and resting his forehead against the wood.

Jesus fuck, he was so damn tired.

He had to find Chibs.

Resolutely, he pushed himself off the door, groaning with the twinge his muscles gave.

"I am getting too old for this shit."

*.*.*

Chibs didn't know how long he sat on the dirty bathroom floor. He didn't really care. Finally, though, he became conscious of the cold floor seeping through his jeans and numbing his arse. He got up more out of a distant discomfort than any actual decision.

He washed his face without looking in the mirror. He didn't want to see his own face at the moment.

Chibs pressed his fingers against his eyes, against another rush of angry tears. He huffed a breath through his nose and lowered his arms when he felt the wave pass. Robotically, he opened the door and moved into the hallway.

He stood there for a moment, lost, and unsure of what he should do.

He hadn't felt lost for a long time. He couldn't honestly say that he was happy with the feeling that felt like it was suffocating him.

"Chibs," he turned to see Tig coming down the hallway. His hair stood on end in curls and circles lined his eyes. His face was pale and drawn, his voice weary. Still, the grip of the hand on Chibs' shoulder was firm and it steadied him for a moment.

He didn't feel so lost at that moment, with his brother.

"Hey man, where ya been?" Tig asked, eyeing him worriedly.

Chibs shrugged, waving vaguely. "Around." He left it at that. No need to tell him that he'd spent the last however-long sitting on a dirty hospital bathroom floor and crying his bloody eyes out.

Some thing's were best left between a man and the bleached bathroom floors of a hospital.

"Well, you're gonna come back with me to Juice's room." Chibs' shoulder jerked and Tig tightened his grip, pulling Chibs back the way he came. "Forget it man. You run, and I get Tara to stick a tranq in your ass."

Chibs swallowed a rush of panic. He didn't want to go back to Juice's room. He didn't want to see him lying there, looking for all intents and purposes, dead. He couldn't.

Shit, he really, really couldn't right now.

He opened his mouth to argue, but all that came out was a defeated sound he would forever deny making. Tig glanced at him and stopped when he saw something on Chibs' face.

Tig ran a hand down his face tiredly, a curse muffled by it. "Shit," he said quietly, letting his arm fall limply to his side and glancing at Chibs again. "Shit," he repeated. "Fine. We won't go back. I don't really want to myself. But you're goin' home then, you're takin' something, and you're getting some goddamn sleep."

Before Chibs could think to argue or express his gratitude-it was a pretty even toss up of which he'd go with. He wasn't entirely sure which he would've chosen-Tig flipped his phone from his pocket and dialed what Chibs saw was Bobby's number.

Tig kept his hand tight on Chibs' shoulder as the phone dialed in his ear. It was loud enough and quiet enough in the hallway that Chibs could hear when Bobby picked up, his voice echoing from the phone.

"Yeah?"

"I found him. I'm taking him home."

There was a momentary pause. "You think that's such a good idea?"

Chibs couldn't say he blamed Bobby for asking that. He still didn't know if it was a good idea.

"Better than the alternative," Tig said dryly.

Another pause. Grudgingly, "Yeah, I guess you're right. Fine. Take him home. Both of you get some sleep. I mean it, Tigger," Bobby said over Tig's faint noise of protest. "You're gonna be staying with him anyway, I know you. You both might as well get some sleep."

"What about you?"

Bobby let out a laugh. It had no humor in it and sounded bone-weary. "Yeah, no way in hell am I getting' any sleep tonight. I'm gonna stay here with Juice. I'll call you when I wanna leave."

"Alright. Thanks, Bobby." Tig hung up the phone and slung his arm around Chibs' shoulder. "C'mon, man. Let's go hit Tara up for some knock-out meds so we don't have to think for the next eight solid."

Chibs had to admit it was the best idea he'd heard in a while.

So…. Surprise?

Yeah. Long time, eh? Don't hate me. Even though it's been forever since I've updated. Almost a year, actually.

….

Right then.

Filler chapter! The next one has some of the good stuff-mostly more back-story, because I'm a sucker for head canons.

And maybe tomorrow I'll update The Ties That Bind. Who knows?

Anyway, thank you all to those who still read my poor, abandoned fics. Thank you even more to those who actually think their worthy enough to review. It's bewildering but very much appreciated. It's 'cause of you guys that I just can't leave these things alone.

Until next time!