After waking from a fitful sleep, Juice began his usual morning routine. He went for a run, making the most of the still relatively pleasant New York fall. Once it got colder, he would have to retreat to the gym for his morning runs. Though he enjoyed the gym, went five days a week to lift, he preferred to do his cardio outside, breathing in the fresh air. His therapist had recommended that he make the most of being outside during the fair weather, citing that sunlight and fresh air were helpful in managing his depression. He supposed she had a point; he'd always been happy in California, where it was always sunny and warm…. at least, he had been until he hadn't. Until everything changed. Juice shook his head, banishing the thought from his head, picking up the pace as he continued to run. It was better to stop himself before he started to dwell on the bad times. Nothing good ever came from thinking about the last few years in Charming, or the years after spent in prison. He continued on, pumping up the volume of his iPod, blasting music to keep the thoughts at bay.

He returned home, hopping in the shower, the water turned as hot as he could tolerate. He practiced his breathing exercises, scrubbing furiously at the grime, real and imagined, on his body. Once satisfied that he'd cleaned himself as well as possible, he made a pot of coffee, settling down with his laptop to plan his day and drink his first cup. He frowned, reviewing his calendar, surprised to find he was ahead of schedule on all of his current projects, leaving him with some free time to kill. Slowly, he sipped his coffee, an awful thought lingering in the back of his mind. Juice had been clean for three years. He hadn't had an urge to get high in over a year. Yet, here he was, after all this time, wanting nothing more than the relief of a needle in his veins, the sweet numbness of heroin. Just a little. Something to dial down the pressure.

The old Juice would have succumbed to his desire. He would have been out in Harlem scoring dope within the hour, savoring the sweet release once he brought the needle to his skin. Thankfully, he told himself, he wasn't that man, anymore. The new Juice had resources to utilize, a support network to reach out to if need be. He had coping mechanisms. He had built a new life for himself, a good one. This Juice had things to live for. Without hesitating, Juice scrolled through his contacts list, ringing his friend from NA, Ben.

"Hey Ben… it's JC," he started, once the other man had answered the phone.

"Hey JC. Everything alright? It's pretty early, still," Ben replied, stifling a yawn.

"I feel like using," Juice stated, sighing heavily.

"Where are you?"

"I'm home… I'm not going to. This… it's the first time in a long time I've even thought about using, had an urge to."

"I'll be there in twenty. Hang tight, okay?"

"Thanks, man."

Juice poured himself another cup of coffee, scrolled through his email. He found himself hovering over the unread email from Chibs, fingers trembling slightly. Juice took a deep breath. God, he wanted nothing more than to get high right now. Not even H, necessarily. A big fat joint would do the trick, anything to mellow him out. He shut his laptop, busied himself with tidying up his spotless kitchen while he waited for Ben to arrive.

True to his word, Ben arrived twenty minutes later. "Hey man, thanks for coming…I really appreciate it," Juice told him, ushering him inside.

The two settled into the kitchen, Juice pouring Ben a cup of coffee, before sitting down at the table. "So, any idea what brought this on?" Ben asked, taking a sip of coffee.

Juice sighed. "I ran into an old friend yesterday," he started, staring down into his own mug. "From back in Cali. Haven't seen him in years."

"One of the guys from your motorcycle club?" Ben asked.

Juice nodded. "Yeah… you know I um, didn't leave on great terms with those guys before I got locked up…" he trailed off, sighing.

"What happened? Did he threaten you or something?" Ben asked, concerned.

"Nah, nah… nothing like that. He um… he was cool. Just… said that the club wasn't out lookin' for me or anything. It was just… weird," Juice elaborated.

Ben nodded, waiting for Juice to continue.

"I guess he told the others that he saw me… I got an email from Filip," he sighed, hands trembling slightly as he brought the mug of coffee to his lips.

"Your ex?" Ben asked, eyebrow raised.

"He's not… not my ex," Juice replied, cheeks flushed. "We screwed around some but there was never any kinda label on it or anythin'. We were just… I don't know, man. The last time we spoke, it wasn't too good, ya know? He said some… some fucked up shit to me."

"Like?"

"He said to me, 'If I were you, I'd get that gun, put it in my mouth, and pull the trigger.' Not exactly the greatest parting words, right?" Juice replied, hands shaking, coffee spilling onto the table.

"Jesus Christ… why would he say that to you?" Ben asked, horrified.

"I was involved in some sketchy stuff back then, man. Besides the fact that I was fucked up on pills twenty-four seven around that time. Better not to rehash old shit… you're ex military, you know how some shit is classified? That's what that shit is… it's just something I can't be tellin' to outsiders."

"Understood," Ben agreed, nodding. "So what did he say in the email?"

"I didn't read it."

"Why not?"

Juice sighed, rubbing his face anxiously with his hands. "I can't, man. Just the thought of it makes my skin crawl. I can't read it. God… I would kill right now to get high. Anything to get me out of my head."

"You're not going to throw away three years of sobriety, JC. You're better than that. I've got you, okay?"

Juice nodded. "Thanks, man."

"You should delete the email. Or send it to a folder that you won't open," Ben suggested.

"Really? You don't think I should just bite the bullet, see what he wants?"

"You need to check yourself, man. You haven't wanted to use in a long time. If receiving contact from this guy has you yearning for the needle, you need to ask yourself, is this the healthiest choice for me right now?" Ben retorted, offering Juice a reassuring smile.

"You're right. It's not. I'm not ready to deal with that… not at the cost of my sobriety. Thanks, Ben."

Juice paused, frowning. "I do want to talk to him, though, Ben. I mean… he was… he meant a lot to me. Still means a lot to me, you know? I'm just not… not ready to face old ghosts, I guess," Juice continued, sighing.

"So make a Filip file. Drop any emails he sends you in there. Out of sight, out of mind. When you're ready to talk to him, to rehash the past, it'll be there waiting. He'll understand if you need time."

"You really think so?"

"From what you've said about him, I'd say so," Ben affirmed.

"Okay… I'll do that, then," Juice agreed, nodding.

"You've got work to do today?" Ben asked.

"Nah… I'm ahead of schedule. Realizing I had nothing but time to kill, on top of wanting to… you know… that's why I called you. Needed someone to hold me accountable."

"I've got group this evening, but other than that, my schedule is free. Why don't you make me one of your famous green smoothies? We can make a day of it. Hit the gym, go to a meeting. You can come with me to my PTSD group if you don't want to be left alone tonight," Ben offered, grinning.

"You'd really do that for me?" Juice asked, touched by the other man's kind gesture.

"You reached out, asked for help. This is what we do, man. We're brothers in recovery. I've got your back."

"Thanks, brother," Juice replied, smiling at the familiarity of the term.

"How was your trip out east, brother?" Chibs asked, looking to his Sergeant at Arms, Happy Lowman.

"Good. Charters are adapting well to the changes we've put in place," Happy affirmed.

Happy remained silent as Chibs discussed other club matters, waiting for church to end so he could speak with the prez in private. He'd arrived back to Charming only hours before, and while he had called Chibs while he was in New York to let him know about who he'd stumbled upon, he had yet to have a chance to discuss the matter further with him.

Once Chibs adjourned the meeting and their brothers began to file out of Chapel, Happy cleared his throat, catching Chibs' eye. "Got a moment, brother?" he asked lowly.

"Aye," Chibs agreed, shutting the door once the last of the other sons had left Chapel, giving the two privacy to speak.

"So, I s'pose ye want to discuss Juice," Chibs said, settling back into his seat at the head of the table.

"You said you were gonna reach out to him… any word back?" Happy asked, genuinely curious.

"No," Chibs sighed, shaking his head. "Sent him an email… no response from him."

Happy nodded. "Can't say I'm surprised… seemed pretty jumpy. He thought I was there to kill him."

"Jesus Christ," Chibs swore, sighing heavily. "How'd he look? He doin' alright ye think?"

Happy nodded. "He looked good. Better than he looked the last couple years here, honestly. Put some weight back on, looked like he's been sleeping."

"Thas' good tae hear. How long has been out?" he asked, frowning.

"Three years, he said. He went out east as soon as he got out of Stockton."

"So he's living out there, then?" Chibs asked.

Happy nodded. "Did a little research during some downtime. He lives in Queens. Does freelance shit with computers… he went back to school, got his degree in computer engineering or programming or some shit."

"Legit work?"

"Yeah. He's got his own website and everything. Goes by JC now. He's still got the same stupid haircut, though," Happy noted, smirking. "Saw him on the street and knew without hesitation that it was him."

Chibs smiled, shaking his head fondly. "I havetae say, I'm glad he survived… knowin' what Jax had planned, what he kept from us… I was afraid we'd get a call from Stockton askin' us to claim the body."

"From the looks of it, he barely made it out of there alive," Happy noted, frowning.

Chibs rose an eyebrow, shooting Happy a quizzical look. "Meanin'?"

"He's got a scar on his neck. Looked like an unsuccessful hit to me… missed his jugular by millimeters. Kid's lucky to still be breathing."

"Shite," Chibs swore, frowning. "Does he know we never sanctioned a hit? That we never voted Mayhem on him?"

"I told him, prez," Happy affirmed. "He didn't know Jax was dead."

"He say anythin' else? Anythin' about the club?" Chibs pressed.

Happy shook his head. "Nah. He got a little buggy. Was popping pills, then made a hasty exit out of there. Said he had therapy. Needed to get going."

"Therapy?" Chibs scoffed, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"He said it keeps him stable. That he's in a better place than he was. From what I saw, I'm willing to believe it. He seemed more like the old Juice than the Juice we knew before all that shit went down," Happy retorted, shrugging.

Chibs nodded, eyes clouded with thought.

"You still have his kutte?" Happy asked, curiously.

"Aye. Ye know, I really did think he'd show up here once he got out…" Chibs trailed off, sighing.

"You miss him, brother?"

"Aye. Juicy was…" he paused, staring wistfully up at the ceiling, "he was somethin' else, that one. Ne'r met someone quite like him."

Happy rose to his feet, striding towards Chibs. "Give him some time… I think I freaked him out, just following him into a coffee shop, sneaking up on him. It's been years, Chibs. He'll reply, eventually. You were always his favorite, the one he went to. I can't see him just ignoring you after you reached out to him," he told the older man, clapping his shoulder.

"Perhaps," Chibs said disbelievingly, staring down at the table.

"I take you probably want to keep our knowing Juicy's whereabouts between us, for now?" Happy asked.

"Aye. No need to bring up old shite with the club until absolutely necessary," Chibs affirmed.

"You think he'd come back, given the chance?"

Chibs smiled softly. "The old Juice, he'd come back in a heartbeat. This club was his family. To the bitter end, all he wanted was a way back in. Haven't seen the lad in almost a decade. Hard tae say what he'd do, anymore."