Bitter Irony

Warnings: spoilers up to episode 5x06, strong language, mature themes



Juice always thought it would be his own fuck ups that would bring him to this point.  He was on his knees in the middle of a field, a shallow grave in front of him, his brothers behind him,  Chibs, the recently instated Sargent at Arms with a gun pointed to the back of his head.



How fucking ironic.  He wasn’t there because of his own pile of shit, wasn’t there because of Potter or Roosevelt, wasn’t there because of Miles or the brick of coke.  No, he was there because of Clay.



“Fuck me,” he whispered to himself knowing he was on the borderline of hysteria, part of him wanted to laugh, the other desperate to cry and neither happened, just a sense of numbness because he wasn’t going to fight back.  Couldn’t if he wanted to.  Not Chibs.  Not even if Happy, Tig, Jax, Phil and Bobby weren’t all there behind him ready, willing and able to take him out.



Worst part?  He hadn’t even done anything... or at least, nothing that he was being accused of.  They’d found out that Clay and the nomads had been behind the home invasions... and who had been Clay’s bitch for the past few months, taking him to the doctors, driving him around since he couldn’t yet ride his motorcycle?  Juice.  Guilty by association.



Since he was already in the middle of a field with a grave before him, already voted guilty by his brothers he’s rather surprised when the silence is broken, not by gunfire, but with a single word. “Why?” Chibs asked, his voice wrecked and Juice hated to hear it that way.  When Juice needed somebody, when his entire world was going to shit, when he needed someone he could absolutely count on, he went to Chibs.



“I didn’t know anything about those home invasions, fuck, I just drove him around, doctors appointments and shit,” Juice responded, retaining his innocence.  He wouldn’t have done that, even when he ratted, lied, he did it to protect the club.  Okay, Miles was to protect his own ass... a lot of it was to protect his own ass, he didn’t want to be excommunicated from the club, somehow that would be almost worst than death.  To be exiled by the family he’d wormed his way into.



There is shifting, whispers.  



Jax is the judge.



The club is his jury.



Chibs will be his executioner.



::



Gosh, I hope nothing like this actually happens, I love Juicy.  

Thanks for reading :)