Woops. Don't mind me. Just popping in to add an author's note so the formatting looks right.

How is everyone today? Good, good. Glad to hear it. Happy reading!

i'm the babe that sleeps through the blitz
i am a sudden and quite unexpected twist
i am your one true love who sleeps with someone else
i am your nemesis
baby, i'm life sweet life itself
David Gray, "Nemesis"

"Goddamn it mother fuck!"

The sound of metal crashing against metal echoed from inside the garage, and Juice hesitated. This building had been spared the worst of the blast, but there was still some damage, plus what the Aryans had done. From the sound of it, Olivia wasn't exactly pleased with the state of things.

He took a deep breath and poked his head around the empty doorframe (they had found the door five feet across the lot; luckily it hadn't hit anybody). "Um, hi," he said.

She looked up from the tools she was banging around and her scowl eased into a brief smile. "Hey. How's the clubhouse?"

"Trashed," he said and shrugged. He stuck his gloved hands in his pockets and ambled closer. "At this point we're not real sure what we can save."

It was the answer she'd expected, but still she winced. Then: "Did Jax talk to Galen?"

"Yeah." A hard sigh. "He says Clay has to stay alive and be their rep here. They want him to handle all of our old customers. No cut for us, money-wise, and if we don't go along they'll hit the other charters, too."

She frowned and tossed another wrench aside. "How's that going to be possible? Clay's in jail."

"I don't know. He wouldn't say."

"These Irish. They're pretty fucked up."

"No shit," he said. "This is the second fucking time they've tried to blow us up: the shit in Ireland, and now this."

She let out a long breath and rubbed her forehead. He took her by the shoulders and pulled her closer. Pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

"You okay?" he murmured into her hair.

"Yeah," she said with a strained laugh. "I'm great." She closed her eyes and he rubbed her arms. "To be honest, Juicy, I'm scared by how…unaffected by this I am. I mean, yeah, I'm fucking pissed at all the damage, but nobody got hurt and—"

Another laugh, dark and humorless. "Do you know what my first thought was when I got my breath back?"

"Hhmm?"

"I just washed my hair and now I'm gonna have to do it again. Not fuck I hope no one's hurt or oh God where's Juice? No. My first thought was about my fucking hair."

"That's kinda funny," he said.

"No it's not! It's awful!"

He grinned and tilted her chin up. "That's not what I meant. I just mean—my first thought the night that branch broke was at least I didn't piss myself."

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and after a moment her lips twitched. "Ortiz—"

"All I'm saying is your mind does weird things when you're in shock like that. It's like all that stupid, every day shit becomes the most critical or something. Doesn't make you a bad person. It's just the way it works."

She took his face in her hands and kissed him firmly on the mouth. When she pulled away there was a line between her brows and tension in her jaw.

"What's wrong?" he said. "Besides the obvious, I mean."

She gave a restless shrug and moved away. "I'm—I'm just tired, I guess. I didn't sleep much last night."

"Nightmares again?" Strangely he'd slept like a rock, and if she'd tossed and turned he hadn't noticed.

"No. It never got that far. More just…thinking too hard."

"Um." He cleared his throat. "About what?"

She propped against the workbench and crossed her arms around her middle. "You remember the other day when you asked me why I love you?"

"Of course," he said with a frown. "Why?"

She scraped the toe of her boot through some broken glass on the floor and wouldn't look at him. "I need to ask you the same thing, Juice. And don't tell me it doesn't matter! I know that's what I said to you, but—" She broke off and bit her lip. "I need an answer. A real one."

His forehead creased and he shoved his hands in his pockets again. "Liv, what—?"

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. "We've been through a lot of shit in a short time, Juice. I mean, I know that there was a lot…between us…before—but we've been together, like actually together, what? Six months? And it's been incredibly intense. Not just us, I mean, but everything. There hasn't been a moment to breathe since—I don't know. Since you guys got out of jail. So I'm just—I just—I guess I'm worried that maybe you love me because life is insane right now and I'm…a sort of port in the storm, maybe."

His mouth went tight and the muscles in his jaw danced. "That's kind of insulting, Olivia."

She looked away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"I know what you meant," he said, roughly. "Do you have any idea how long I've loved you? It hasn't been for six months or eight or even a year. You told me to stay away from you the night of the first lockdown, remember? It was about two weeks later, and we had barely spoken. I hadn't even really seen you.

"Then one morning I walked into the garage for my shift. I didn't know you were there, and suddenly you just popped out from underneath this car. You had dirt on your cheek." He tapped the spot on his own face. "You didn't notice me, and for a second you just looked so—I don't know, Liv. Happy. Like everything was exactly the way you wanted it."

He shook his head. "I turned around and walked out before you saw me and I told myself I wouldn't ever try to get close to you again. I knew it sure as fuck wasn't me who put that look on your face, and I figured it never would be. It's why I stopped you that day in the bathroom. God, Liv, I wanted you so fucking bad it hurt. People say that, you know? But until I met you I didn't know what it meant."

"Juice—"

"Let me finish!" He closed his eyes. Opened them again. They were bright with unshed tears and his voice was thick. "You wanna know why I love you. Okay. Let's start with the night we met: you pulled a knife on a guy twice your size because he called me a spic. One time you broke a guy's nose because he was picking on a fifteen-year-old girl. You were ready to give up your entire life here to keep me and my club safe."

She snorted. "Some people might call that reckless."

"Some people don't know you like I do. Yeah, you've got a temper, and sometimes it gets you in trouble, but you're also the most careful person I've ever met. You don't fuck around and you don't take people's shit. You believe in me like nobody in my life ever has before, and you make me"—he choked and tried again—"you make me want to be the man you see when you look at me.

"So let me ask you, again, why do you love me? Because if all those things you said before are true, if maybe I'm just in this because life's shit and this isn't, then why are you in it? Because you're worth like ten of me, Olivia, and I just can't figure it out."

Her eyes were hot and hard as they raked over his face. "First of all, that last bit isn't true. You're special, Juice. You're—it's like all of your rough bits match up to my rough bits and somehow it just sort of…flows. You're kind and you're forgiving and you always think the best of people."

"I'm fucking naïve, you mean," he said derisively.

"If I'd meant naïve I would've fucking said it! Here's the thing: I'm a cynical bitch, and you help me see things in a better light. You're a sweet guy who gets pushed around, and I help you stand a little straighter. I love you because you're what I wish I could be. I want to believe in people and the world the way you do. I want to be optimistic again."

"You're not as hard as you pretend to be," he grumbled.

"Right. Because I pretend to be the way I was before I met you. I pretend to be the woman who'd drop everything and run at the slightest twitch. I pretend like I don't really care, like none of this touches me, but between falling for you and what happened to Ope—" She broke off, but she didn't have to finish the sentence. He knew. He always did, with her, which was also part of why she loved him: he got her, without a lot of fanfare or explanation, and though she'd certainly changed over the course of their acquaintance, he'd never once asked her to. He accepted her, ice queen held together by duct tape and safety pins, and he loved her in spite of it all.

She kicked at a bit of debris and sent it skittering across the concrete. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid question."

"No," he said, "it wasn't." There was a weariness to his tone that made her look up. He smiled a little. Stepped closer and lowered his voice so he wouldn't be overheard. "I want to leave this place with you, Olivia. I want to get out of this life. I want us to make a new life, together. If you think you can't be with me or I can't be with you without getting attacked or blown up every week or so, then tell me now so I can make new plans."

"No," she said on a breath. "Baby, no. Last night just—it spooked me. Not because we all could've died, though of course there's that—there were kids in there, for fuck's sake—but more because I was so blasé about the whole fucking thing. 'Eh, another day, another bomb, whoop dee fuck.' That shouldn't be anyone's reaction to almost getting blown up!"

"I know, babe. Believe me, I get it. It's like you kind of have to—I don't know—choose what to let rattle you. A bomb that blew up the clubhouse but didn't hurt anyone? Seems weirdly minor when you compare it to the other shit."

He remembered Phil and Vi-Lin's severed hands displayed on their cuts and shuddered. She still didn't know that detail.

She stepped closer and rested her hands on his hips. Her head fell forward against his chest. "Our lives are so fucked up, Ortiz."

He ran a hand over her hair and dropped a kiss on her bent head. "I'm not gonna argue." He sighed and she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "Look, Liv, I know I'm a fuck up—"

She made a noise of protest, but he stopped her with a gesture.

"It's okay. I know I am. I know I don't give you a lot of reasons to have faith in me, but please don't ever doubt how I feel about you. You're it for me, Gable. Believe it."

"You're not a fuck up, Juice. You're human. You give me reasons to have faith in you every day. We've both made a lot of mistakes, and we're both bruised and battered and all sorts of creaky. But, you know, at the end of the day there's nobody I'd rather have in my corner than you."

A slow smile unfurled across his face. "You mean it?"

"I don't say things I don't mean."

He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. She laughed a little as he bent his head and captured her mouth with his. The kiss was slow and sweet, all soft lips and velvet tongues, and as it stretched and deepened, the always-present spark between them was stoked higher and hotter.

She pulled away, panting a little, and managed a smirk. "As much as I like the way you think, I'm not sure this is the place. There's not even a door."

He made a low sound of disappointment and kissed her again. "I guess you're right," he said. He stepped back with a rueful smile. "I came in here to check on you, but also to tell you we're headin' up to Three Points today. After the attack Jax called a bunch of the charters together for a big meet. Not really sure when we'll be back, but probably late."

"Yeah, okay," she said. "Are they waiting for you now?"

"Uh. I think Jax was waiting to find out how Tara's ultrasound went before we left."

She choked and coughed. Clapped her hand to her chest and cleared her throat. "Tara's—right. The ultrasound. To make sure everything's okay. After last night."

"Are you—?"

"I'm fine," she said and waved a hand. "Just inhaled some ash or something."

There was a knock on the doorframe and Rat peeked in. She'd never been so happy to see him in her life.

"Hey, yo," she said. "What's up?"

"Came to grab Juice," he said. "Jax is ready to leave."

"Great. Thanks, man." He pulled Olivia close for a quick kiss. He smiled. "Try not to worry too much, Liv. It's all gonna work out."

"And that's why I love you, Ortiz," she murmured.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned. He turned away and nodded at Rat as he went past.

"Oh, Ollie," Rat said, "I almost forgot." He held up an envelope. "You got mail. Like, actual mail. From the post office."

She laughed and took it from him. "It does still happen sometimes, Rat." She glanced down at the envelope and her face went still. Color flared across her cheeks.

"Somethin' wrong?" he said.

Juice looked back at his concerned tone and took note of her expression.

She glanced up at them with a quick shake of her head. "Nah. It's just junk mail. I've probably been pre-approved for a credit card or they're inviting me to join the AARP again."

"Little young for that, ain't you?" said Rat.

"You'd think," she replied with a grin. "I, um. I'm just gonna go put this through the shredder. Can't be too careful!"

"That was weird," Rat said as she disappeared into the office.

"She just, uh. She really hates junk mail," Juice said, his voice vague and tense. Everyone hated junk mail, but people didn't usually look at it like she had. And then, when Rat asked her about it, she'd transformed into old Olivia—brand new to Charming and coated with Teflon Olivia—in a snap.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for several wild, frantic heartbeats. She rubbed her chest with her knuckles and gulped in air. She was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, and if she didn't relax she was going to melt down right here. The postmark said Dallas, Texas, and the date was three days ago: the day Toric arrested her at St. Thomas.

With shaking hands, she ripped the envelope open. A colorful card fluttered to the floor. Dizziness hit her in a sudden, dislocating wave when she saw what it was. She didn't bother trying to catch herself as she slid bonelessly down and stared in dull horror.

It was a postcard. On one side was a picture of the Atlanta skyline. A peach in the lower right corner welcomed her to Georgia. She flipped the card over.

Missing you. xoxo

That was all it said.

It was enough. She pressed a hand to her mouth and fought the overwhelming urge to vomit.

As he'd predicted, Juice didn't get in till late. He tumbled into bed next to her, oddly wired and hyped up, and the feel of his mouth on her skin woke her. He was fervent and hurried, rough and impatient, and she responded in kind. They made love ardently, almost violently, and when it was over the sweat on their bodies hadn't even dried before he pulled her to him again.

When she opened her eyes the next morning he was gone. She grabbed her t-shirt off the floor and tugged it on. Her jeans from yesterday were thrown over the chair; she could see a bit of paper sticking out of the back pocket. She sat in front of the vanity and scowled at the postcard a long time.

She knew Juice would want her to tell him about this. It was part of their pact. But she had a feeling something must have happened yesterday, something that had put him in such an edgy mood last night, and she wasn't sure she wanted to worry him. She didn't try to fool herself by brushing off the warning the card represented: Teddy knew where she was, and he'd be coming for her soon. He liked to toy with his prey before he pounced, so she expected several more notes like this one until, one day, he (or his guys) showed up at her door.

"Well," she murmured. She brushed a wayward tear off her cheek and stashed the postcard in the back of her vanity drawer. Juice had no reason to look in there, and she figured he'd never find it.

When she got to TM it was a full house. Everyone was working on cleaning out the clubhouse, and the place was a scene of organized chaos. For a moment her attention was caught by a flatbed tow truck with a partially disassembled bike strapped to it. Juice's bike, by the look of things. What the fuck?

She joined Chibs and Tig outside the garage and hitched her thumb back over her shoulder. "What happened there?"

"Juicy didn't tell you?" Tig said, surprised.

"Guess not."

He and Chibs exchanged a look, and Tig stubbed out his smoke and ambled away. She watched him go with a curious frown.

"Was it something I said?"

"We're all a little worried about Juice, lass," Chibs said. "He stole a cop's bike yesterday and wrecked it."

"What?" she said. Her tone was flat and disbelieving. He had promised her no more reckless stunts, but apparently the message hadn't gotten through.

"We were pulled over by some cops in Eden. Juice got mouthy, so they handcuffed him to his bike and shot out the tires."

"You're kidding. That doesn't seem like very cop-like behavior."

He shrugged. "Aye, they were dirty as all fuck. We tracked Juice's bike back to a chop shop. He picked out a new one, but we thought we'd bring the old one back as a little present for you. A sort of, ah, apology for the shop bein' in such dire straights."

He decided not to mention Juice's stunt with jumping from a speeding bike into Rat's van. He wasn't sure how she would take it, and it wasn't his job to rat the boy out.

"He want it back?" she said, meaning his old one.

"Don't know. You'd have to ask him."

And she would as soon as she had a chance. She didn't want to give him a hard time, but he worried her. Did he have some sort of death wish? Chibs' news decided her: she definitely wouldn't tell him about the postcard. She didn't want to add to whatever storm was raging inside his head.

Just then four more bikes rumbled into the lot: one of them was Bobby, but she didn't recognize the other three.

"Bobby's back?" she said.

"Aye. Brought new patch-ins from some other charters, too. Tryin' to rebuild our ranks."

She lifted a brow. "Better than the last group, I hope."

He chuckled. "Bobby was very particular with his screening process."

She acknowledged that with a wry grin and lifted an arm to greet Bobby as he walked toward them. He swooped her up in a bear hug that made her ribs creak and left her breathless.

"How you been, Ollie? Long fuckin' time."

"Too long, but I'm glad you're home now." She patted her hip. "Got shot. Blown up. Garage was trashed. You know, same ol'."

He laughed and clapped her on the back. "Chibs tell you about our new patch-ins?"

"Yup. Hi, guys."

"This's West, Montez, and Quinn. Boys, this is Ollie. She's J—uh. A mechanic here in the shop."

Her mouth quirked. "He was about to say Juice's old lady, and I'm that, too. Welcome to Charming."

They greeted her politely, if a little warily. She could tell they didn't know what to make of her: an old lady, but apparently also a mechanic—and introduced that way. She acknowledged their confusion with a sardonic grin that brought out the dimple in her chin.

Chibs poked her in the arm. "I think Jackie boy wanted to talk to you. Somethin' about the clubhouse."

"What about it? He think I'm a contractor now?"

"Doubt it, but you should ask him. He's inside."

She started toward the garage, but Chibs turned her around. "Inside there."

"Oh good. Too fucking bad I left my hardhat at home."

Chibs snorted. "C'mon, lass. I'll walk with you. Knock you out of the way if anything so much as tries to ruffle that pretty red hair of yours."

"And they say chivalry is dead." She waved at Bobby and the new guys over her shoulder and let Chibs lead her toward the burned-out shell of the clubhouse.

They found Jax standing over the charred husk of his father's bike. They paused and Chibs cleared his throat. Jax' head jerked up, and for a moment his expression was like a wound, ripped and bleeding. Then his face smoothed and he found part of a smile.

Olivia hooked her thumbs in her back pockets and took a tentative step towards him. "You gonna put it back together again?"

"Yeah. If I can find the time."

She knew he and Opie had restored it years ago, and the bike was more than just a bike to Jax. It was a symbol—not only of his father, but of his bond with Ope. They were both gone, and now the bike was a wreck again. Her eyes flicked away a moment. She wasn't sure how he would react to what she wanted to say next.

Finally she looked back at him. "If you need any help, let me know. Opie told me—" She broke off and her smile became strained.

Jax nodded his understanding. She didn't have to finish the thought. He knew she and Opie had been close, like he'd said to her at the wake. He'd been in jail and even when he wasn't there'd been too many ghosts between them near the end: Donna and Clay and Piney. The fuckin' gavel and every bit of shit that came with it.

He accepted her offer for what it was: not an attempt to usurp Opie's memory or the times they'd had together, but rather a gesture of solidarity. Jax was an indifferent mechanic at best. Opie had been the talent there. They both knew it.

"Thanks," he said. "I'd like to see how far I can get on my own, but…I know who to call if it gets rough."

She tilted her head in brief recognition. Then: "So I guess this isn't what you wanted to talk to me about."

He gestured for them to follow him. "Come on in here. Watch out for that shit; it's still kinda hot."

She dodged the pile of debris and grimaced. "They sure know their business, don't they?"

Behind her Chibs let out a huff. "I think it's a point of pride with those Irish lads. We're lucky it didn't do more damage to the garage."

"They weren't trying to do property damage," Jax said, grimly. "They were tryin' to kill. We're lucky they got arrogant with that fucking pen or we'd probably all be dead now—including Tara and my boys."

They were in what had been the chapel by now. Rat and Happy were there, gloved and wearing hoodies zipped to their chins. They'd been clearing rubble and it was heaped around them like a scene from a shitty disaster movie.

Jax nodded toward what they'd uncovered and Olivia peered at it. "Oh," she said. It was the table. Charred and blackened, but still recognizable. It was hard to burn a slab of redwood like that.

"We've got a new place in town," Jax said. "We're takin' the table, of course, and whatever else is salvageable around here. You think you can put any of this shit back together?"

A quick glance told her no, but she was sure that wasn't true. "Grab what you want to keep and I'll see what I can do. I'll need a space to work, though. The garage is—" She lifted a hand in a shrug and Jax nodded in commiseration.

"You can set up at the ice cream shop. There's a big back room that should work."

"Ice cream shop?" She laughed a little at the incongruity. "Sure. Sounds good." She jerked her chin toward the table. "You want me to see about refinishing it?"

"No," he said with a definitive shake of his head. "We're gonna leave it like that. To remember."

"Good," she said with a brief smile. "If you'd said yes I was going to try to talk you out of it."

"No need, Ollie girl," Chibs said. "The Sons don't break, and we sure as shite don't forget. Galen O'Shay needs to remember who he's fucking with."

Her brows lifted, but she didn't ask him to elaborate. She was, after all, just an old lady, and it wasn't any of her goddamn business.

You'd think she would've learned by now not to keep secrets. Some people.

Also I haven't 100% decided how the next several events are going to fall out, so. Let's hope it all comes together. :)