"This is not sanitary," Stuart said as he watched me get my second tattoo. It wasn't exactly the words I wanted to hear.

Glancing up at him, I rolled my eyes and sighed. "You're lucky these guys only speak French. They'd probably hit you for saying that. This is a nice place. I don't know what's wrong with you." The truth was the place was nothing special. It looked the same as most other tattoo parlours, but Stuart's judgement was starting to make me mad. "Why don't you go watch over Ira? She is getting her first tattoo ever and I'm immune to pain. My reactions won't nearly be as funny as hers."

Stuart didn't find my joke funny as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not watching Ira in pain."

"What about Thierry?" I suggested instead. Thierry had bribed the tattoo shop to cancel its other clients for triple their going rate if they closed it for just us. Which meant we all got tattooed at the same time so we weren't wasting the day here or putting ourselves in danger for long.

Letting out a huff, Stuart glanced to where Thierry was sitting with his eyes closed. A bearded man worked on his clavicle. "I don't want to watch anyone get stabbed repeatedly by needles."

I smirked as my tattoo artist told me in French to take a deep breath because the next part was going to hurt. I ignored him and continued to talk to Stuart. "Stewie, you know these men probably have blindfolds so you don't have to watch them tattoo the burnt toast on you."

Stuart didn't smile. Instead, he started to shift uncomfortably on the balls on his feet, his arms crossed over his chest. "You know, you really aren't funny, Linkin."

Laughing, I leaned back more in my seat. "Yes I am," I told him simply. Everyone except him was getting a tattoo, and everyone protested his decision. When Ira finally came to his aid and said she was proud enough that he was simply coming, I didn't think I had ever seen him happier or smugger.

We sat in silence for a minute as I breathed slowly and focused on the faint tingle in my wrist from the needle. I knew it should hurt, especially every time the tattoo artist went over the scar tissue, but it didn't.

"So, why chains?" Stuart finally asked, changing topics. It seemed like he was the one who needed the distraction from what was going on, not me.

My eyes opened once again and I glanced up to him from my leather chair. "It isn't a chain, it's a broken chain. It's symbolic and perfectly covers the scar without ruining my sleeve."

Stuart blinked repeatedly as he stared down at me like he was trying to understand what I had just said. "I'm going to go check on Ira. She's getting an eagle, right?"

I nodded, and so did he. Ira was going to take the longest and that was her own fault.

"Guess that nickname really stuck."

Thierry was the first of us done. He had the smallest piece since he was the most covered. Spare skin was hard to find on him. "How's it going?" he asked, running a hand through my hair as he walked over to me.

I opened my eyes and smiled at him. "Good, almost done I think." It at least looked that way to me and my artist was in the middle of shading the links now anyway. "What did you get, let me see?"

Pulling down the edge of his shirt, he showed off the piece he got along his collarbone, which was now covered with cellophane. "You can't be mad. I got it for you," he said quickly as he saw my eyes studying the simple eight chains, which slowly faded and blended into his sleeve. The longer I looked at it, the more he seemed to become worried. "Please speak?" he finally breathed.

Not only was the piece beautifully done, but I was surprised by how much it meant to me. I never wanted someone to have a tattoo done for me, but at least it wasn't my name in big black letters and it fit so well with his other pieces. "I love it." I smiled at him. "Just please tell me you didn't get it because of the terrible relationship with my name?"

We both laughed and he shook his head. "If I wanted that, I would have gotten a Valentine's Day card on my ass," he teased, leaning in to kiss me gently. "But no, I wanted you to know you weren't alone in this fight, that'll be here for you no matter what." He paused before deciding to ruin the moment. "I'm linked to you."

I rolled my eyes. "I hate you," I said though I was laughing just as my artist finished. Just like Thierry's, the work was beautifully done. Identical chains ran around my wrists with a single link shattered. "Come on, let's go see how Ira's handling her first tattoo?"

"I'm pretty sure I saw her crying. Screamed at least once too."

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

Thierry smirked and winked at me. My artist finished cleaning up my wrists and wrapping them for me. "I want to go see more," he joked, offering me his hand.