[A/N: Hi, guys! If you're new here, I write a series of fanfic about Juice and his girlfriend/wife Kyra, a black girl from Oakland I introduced in my first fic, "The Sweetest Taboo" and developed further in "The Evolution of Kyra James." I recommend reading those before you get into this. (They're on my profile). I've been sitting on this short about Juice's death since SOA ended. It follows the events of season 7. I know I keep saying I'm coming back to fanfic, then leaving stories incomplete. I make no promises this time. :-) ]
Kyra did everything required of her.
Identified the body.
Notified his mother.
Arranged a memorial attended by five people-herself, his estranged parents, his business partner at the weed shop, Chibs.
Put the house on the market.
Packed their shit.
Talked to the attorney.
Closed his bank accounts.
Settled his debts.
Made an appointment to have his tattoo-the crow on her back, just below her right shoulder-removed.
She was back at her apartment in Sacramento-she moved a month prior to his death to prepare for a divorce they never endured. 'Til death do us part, she thought as she lay on the living room floor smoking a joint. She inhaled the smoke, rolled it around her tongue and blew at the ceiling. Like he did at the end of a difficult day.
Her Widow's To-Do List complete, she had nothing to do but remember his letter. The white envelope with her name in his neat, angular handwriting, tucked among his belongings from Stockton. His final words to her. "I won't waste your time with another apology. You're sick of me saying sorry," he wrote. "I don't blame you if you wish we never met, but I don't regret loving you. You made me more of a man than my kutte ever did. I guess that's easy to say now that it doesn't matter."
Of course, he only saw it staring down a lonely death. Not after Tara got locked up. Or when Opie was bludgeoned to death. Or when Neeta almost died in one of the break-ins Clay orchestrated in his quest to unseat Jax as President. Watching her aunt breathe through tubes, Kyra knew she would leave him. He'd never abandon the club. She couldn't stay, knowing they'd nearly killed Neeta. "How many lives get ruined before you realize SAMCRO doesn't love any of you?" she asked.
Tara. Gemma. Even Jax. All swallowed up and spit out by that damn Reaper.
Juice sacrificed their marriage and his life for what? The details of his autopsy told a terrifying tale of his last days. All that bullshit to die alone in a cell-no wife, no club. "Dumb ass," she croaked through tears. She hated him. She hated that death wouldn't let her hate him.
He was a coward. He was a fool. He was the love of her fucking life. He was gone.
She touched the crow on her back and checked the time. Her tattoo removal appointment was fifteen minutes ago.
She curled up and sobbed.