You remember how it smelled of grease. Oil stained your hands, your fingernails were as black as ash, and your hair, tied in a random ponytail, fell from under your scarf as you knelt next to the car. You didn’t have to know anything about mechanics.

Just being there with him. Chibs had the kind of patience that could tolerate even your lack of technical knowledge, as long as you held your tools properly and didn’t talk too much. He laughed shortly, taking a drag on the cigarette he always kept in the corner of his mouth, even when he was working. The sun was streaming through the rusty roof of the workshop, and everything seemed… normal.

You just wanted to hand him the key. Nothing more. Five more minutes, more coffee. Maybe then a break. Maybe then you could go home. But then it didn’t come. You heard a sound like a bolt snapping, only deeper more dull. Chibs lifted his head at that moment and looked at you with an expression like something was wrong. Like he knew. But he didn't have time to say anything. He didn't have time to move away an inch.

The explosion tore everything apart. The car exploded with such force that it swept away the tools, tore apart the workbench, and bent the metal like paper. The roar pierced your ears until silence reigned. Momentary, artificial, illusory. And then chaos reigned. Chibs was thrown into the air like a toy.

He fell a few meters away, hitting the concrete with force. His body so familiar, so strong now looked alien. The skin was burned on his neck and one shoulder, a piece of his jacket had melted into his shoulder, and his head... his head was the worst. A crack on his temple, deep, from which blood poured in a dark, thick stream. One side of his skull took the force of the impact visibly, painfully, brutally.

His face was like a mask, only the one from the opera of death covered in blood, dirt, fire. His eyes were closed and the last thing you heard was Gemma screaming and Jax cursing as he ran