The mornings were the hardest. Waking up, discovering that his bed was empty, that she was no longer in his life. Again and again that realization tore the ground underneath his feet away. The energy that he was supposed to gather at night, was vaporizing like water in a desert. Then his arms felt heavy, his head too full to lift. Sometimes he stared forward for hours, clinging to a piece of clothing of which her scent was long faded.

Since Kozik had stopped by, there however was an irritated feeling underneath his skin. Some kind of itching inside his skull, unable to reach. He knew the man was right. He couldn't go on like this. If Dana would see him this way, she would be disappointed. He had to find her, he couldn't stop trying. With a deep sigh he forced himself to the edge of the bed. He stared at the door of his bedroom. Effortlessly he could picture her, standing there, wearing his SAMCRO shirt reaching to halfway her tights. They'd barely known each other, when she had been at his door because Chibs had believed that would be a nice surprise.

Chibs...

A new pang shot through his chest. He missed his friend, his mentor... He felt ashamed for lacking the balls to go visit his grave. But that would make it so real. A part of him was still pretending that Chibs was just away for a while, just like Dana; unreachable, but not permanent. He bent his head. His hands were clenched around the mattress. He stared at the ring that Dana had given him as a Christmas present. No matter where he looked; everything reminded him of her. He should draw strength from it, but instead his throat started to ache again and again, as the tears were piling up.

But tears didn't lead anywhere. Nor did doing nothing.

He had to pull himself together, had to tore himself away from this uselessness, before he would turn into a ghost that she wouldn't even recognize as he found her back. For he had to find her. He had promised he would never let her go, and he had broken that promise. He had been careless, hadn't listened to his heart and that had been the reason that he had lost her.

Not because of Kozik, not because of Dana.

Because of himself.

Juice put the dishes of the past days in the dishwasher, cleaned up the rest of the mess and opened the windows. In front of the mirror he shaved his face and the sides of his head, so that his tattoos were visible again. It gave him energy, courage.

Two hours later he sat in a tattoo shop, listening to the zooming of the tattoo gun that was giving pinpricks in his hand. He knew there would be days on which he wouldn't feel so strong, when his dreams would drag him back to the time that Dana was still sleeping in his arms, where after he would awake with nothing but the blankets pressed against his body. Then he would need something giving him strength, reminding him that he couldn't give up. Ever.

His new tattoo was an arrow reaching from the upper finger bone of his thumb to his wrist. "An arrow seems to symbolize protection. And... as husband and wife we're supposed to protect each other."

Those had been her words, as she had given him the ring with Christmas. He had failed to protect her. Although they hadn't said their vows yet, it still felt like he had failed her. It was his duty to fix it. How many times had he promised her to protect her, that he would never let her go? He hoped the new ink would keep giving him the strength to hold on, to keep looking for her. He couldn't wipe it away, it would be on his skin for the rest of his life. His arrow. His guide. His compass.

Before Juice returned to the clubhouse for the first time in days, he visited the cemetery. On his way he had bought three bouquets of flowers. The first he laid down on Opie's grave. Three-quarter year had passed since he had died. Juice sighed deeply. There was an uneasy feeling in his stomach, squeezing his throat. He couldn't help but think that Opie was looking down on him now with a grim face, blaming him for wallowing in self-pity those last weeks.

"I'm going to find her," he promised in a whisper at the cold stone.

Quickly he walked on, to Chibs' grave. He stared at the letters that were chiseled in the marble. He was resting here, for real. Filip "Chibs" Telfort, he read.

"Aye Juicy, good to finally see ye here."

He swallowed the lump in his throat as it felt like he could feel Chibs' arms around him.

"Find ye lass, Juicy-boy. Find ye lass, bring some beautiful babies to this world and name one after me."

A little shaky, Juice took a deep breath, nodding. For a while he kept standing there, lost in thoughts, until he walked to the last grave. He bit on his lip as he laid down the last flowers. Gemma had been the closest to a mother, like Chibs had felt like a father. It felt as if he had lost both of his parents. Something he had walled himself off for, because Dana's disappearance had been the only thing on his mind.

But Gemma and Chibs deserved his goodbyes, his attention, too.

There however were no more tears he could leave behind. They wouldn't want to see them anyway. They would lay an arm around his shoulder, kissing his cheek, telling him he had to move on and shouldn't linger in the past.

And so he did. He got on his Harley, rode to the club house and let the few brothers that were left hug him. And for a moment – for a very brief moment – he felt something again. Something warm inside his chest, instead of that ever-present pain.