Hanna hardly registered the knock on the door. She stared at the ceiling hypnotized by the shadow of the fan spinning. "Han?" Juice called. She could hear in his voice how worried he was. She wanted to get up and unlock the door. Let him inside and tell him she was okay. But nothing was okay. And she was trapped inside her own body, with limbs that felt like leaden paperweights.

"Tara asked about you," Juice said after a moment.

"I texted her," Hanna told him, her voice barely loud enough to hear from the hallway. It was quiet for a moment, her first words in hours shocking him into silence.

"You want me to take you down to the club?" He asked. "Might be good to be with the other girls."

Good for whom? Hanna wanted to ask. She couldn't answer their questions, couldn't listen to them try and commiserate with her. They hadn't been there, they couldn't understand. "No," she said, her voice cracking. "I need to be alone."

The silence dragged out, and Hanna began to think Juice had left. "You sure?"

"I need to think."

The door creaked, and she knew he was leaning against it. Hanna's stomach clenched as the tears she thought she was done with bubbled back up. "I love you, Han."

"I know," she murmured.

"I'll pick you up later," he told her. "For the wake."

OoOoO

Hanna still wasn't sure how she'd managed to pull herself together long enough to get ready for the wake. But here she was, at the funeral home, dressed in black with a full face of makeup she didn't intend on crying off. She was done with that. Feelings were a necessary precursor for tears, and all Hanna felt was numb.

"You alright, Han?" Juice asked again. She nodded. "We can go home if you want, I just have to make an appearance." Hanna shook her head. She couldn't leave, not without seeing the casket. Maybe seeing Half Sack at peace would finally get the bloody image out of her head.

"Hanna!" She turned to locate the source of the voice. David Hale jogged across the street. Last time she'd seem him she'd been giving her statement. The time before that had been about Tristen's rape.

"Seems like we only ever see each other when something terrible happens," Hanna noted. She'd meant for the words to come out sarcastic, but her tone lacked all feeling instead. He opened his arms to hug her and she let him, more to appease him than to seek real comfort for herself. They'd been friends once, before her chaotic summers with SAMCRO, but that was a long time ago.

"How're you holding up?" He asked, rubbing her shoulders as if they'd stayed close. She just shrugged. David looked over her shoulder at Juice, she didn't see Juice's expression but David sighed. "Alright, well, take care of yourself, Han. Alright?"

She forced a smile that felt more like a grimace and nodded as he walked away. "Let's go inside."

Hanna and Juice walked toward the building. Clay and most of the guys were gathered in the entryway. Before she could say anything, Clay pulled her into a big hug. "Good to see you on your feet, kiddo."

"I'll be good," she muttered. He patted her on the back, though he didn't look convinced. "Tig with Gemma?"

"Yeah, they're laying low. She'll be good. We decided not to tell her about Abel, in case she calls you." Hanna nodded. Gemma had enough to deal with without knowing her grandson was kidnapped.

Hanna took Juice's hand and let him lead her inside. Bobby and Chibs patted her on the back as she passed.

She thought she was prepared for the mourners. The Crow Eaters who probably knew Half Sack better than she did, who were genuinely hurting at his death. Maybe one of them would have become his old lady one day. But they hadn't been there, and she cringed away when they tried to connect with her. They hadn't been the ones watching while Cameron killed him. They hadn't been the ones who couldn't do anything about it.

Hanna walked toward the casket. It was closed, and adorned with the reaper. There was a cut on top, full patch, and it made the breath catch in her throat. She felt a hand on her back, and turned to see Jax. "What happened wasn't on you," he said. He was the first one to say what she'd been vehemently disbelieving for two days. The only one it mattered to hear it from.

She shook her head. "You weren't there, Jax. I should have been watching my back. With everything going on with Zobelle, I knew we'd be targets. I should have been prepared."

"You can't save everyone, Han."

"If I hadn't been tied to that chair, I would have tried." Sure, she might have failed. But maybe she would've saved Abel, or Half Sack, or at least died trying. "If there's anything I can do to help, Jax, let me know. Please."

Jax looked at her a moment before nodding. "I know you've got our backs." He kissed Hanna on the temple and let her go.

She stood in front of the casket for another moment before returning to the crowd. Hanna slipped her hand through Juice's and squeezed. "I'm ready to go home."

He nodded and the two of them made their way outside. The rest of the guys had either already begun to head out or were slowly making their way out as well. They lingered outside, talking quietly. Opie put a hand on her shoulder. "You know if you ever need anything, I'm here. Lyla too."

Before she could reply, a van turned the corner. The door slid open and a man hung out. Hanna hardly had time to react before she was pushed to the ground by Juice. She struggled to get back to her feet, but he kept her down. Shots rang out around them, and screams punctuated the air. Helpless.

The shots stopped, and Hanna sat up, looking in the direction the van had gone. But it was David that caught her attention; he was lying in the road, unmoving. She stood up, head spinning, and took a few steps toward the curb. It took her a moment to realize Juice was calling her name.

"Never again," she whispered. Juice gave her a questioning look, but she only shook her head.

OoOoO

The doorbell rang, and Hanna padded down the hallway, barefoot and wearing one of Juice's old t-shirts. She peered through the window. Tristen waved from the step. "What are you doing here, Tris?" Hanna asked, as she pulled open the front door.

"Juice told me he was going to Lodi, asked if I'd come by. Dad said I could spend the night." Tristen looked her up and down. "You look like hell."

"That's better than I feel," Hanna muttered. She stepped out of the way to let Tristen into the foyer.

Tristen sat her duffle bag on the couch and unzipped it. "I brought movies, and mom sent cookies." At Hanna's skeptical look, Tristen waved the Tupperware in front of her face. "White chocolate macadamia, your favorite." Hanna just shrugged. "Or dad said we could come up to the farm. Brandy misses you."

"I don't want to ride," Hanna muttered. Tristen reached for her sister's hands, pulling her into the living room. The blonde stared blankly over her shoulder for a moment, before turning back to her little sister. "Let's go to the shooting range."

Tristen frowned. "I don't know."

"You ever shot a gun?" Hanna asked. Tristen shook her head. "Figures Karen wouldn't let you go hunting. Well, it's time you learn. You should know how to protect yourself."

Tristen bit her lip, but nodded. Hanna led her into the garage, but when Tristen started to get into the convertible, Hanna held up a hand to stop her. She searched the shelves for a different set of keys. "What's that?" Tristen asked, as Hanna pulled back the sheet covering a motorcycle.

"Juice bought it a couple months back," Hanna explained, running her hands over the bike. "He's fixing it up to resell."

"You know how to ride?" Tristen asked skeptically. Hanna nodded. "Do you have a license?"

"Not yet," Hanna admitted. "But Unser isn't going to pull us over, and David's dead." She picked up her helmet and tossed it to Tristen. "Get on."

OoOoO

Hanna and Tristen were passed out on the sofa in the living room when Juice finally came home. Tristen was the first to wake up, peering over the top of the couch to shoot Juice a half smile. "Is she feeling better?" He asked.

Tristen shrugged. "At least she's sleeping."

Juice ruffled Tristen's hair. "Thanks for staying with her. I didn't want to leave her alone." She nodded. "You think you can stay here a few more days?"

"You're going somewhere?" She asked.

He sighed. "Vancouver. We have a lead on Abel."

"You can't leave the country," Hanna mumbled, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "If you're caught, they'll revoke your bail."

Juice nodded. "We have to risk it."

"For Jax's kid," Hanna finished. "I'm going with you."

"Han–"

"No arguing," she told him. Hanna stood up, leaving Tristen behind on the couch. "Let me pack some shit and then we'll tell the guys." Hanna didn't give him a chance to argue. She turned and headed down the hall toward their room.

Juice and Tristen watched her go. The girl was the first to look away. "She needs this. Let her go with you, please."

"You don't know what you're asking, Tristen."

She raised an eyebrow. "I know enough." Tristen shook her head. "You should have seen her at the range today. She's so angry, and it's all directed at herself."

"Hanna feels responsible for what happened," Juice said with a sigh. "But it wasn't her fault."

"I know that, and deep down, so does she," Tristen said, leaning her chin on the back of the couch. "But she needs to prove that she can take care of herself, that she can take care of us."

"She doesn't need to do that," he argued.

Tristen held her hands up in surrender. "Believe me, I know that. We aren't her responsibility. She can't save everyone. But if Hanna doesn't feel in control, she falls apart. She's always been like that." Juice looked down the hallway for a moment. "Just let her do this. She needs to know that she can."

Juice looked back at Tristen and nodded, though he was still conflicted. "Alright. Get some sleep. We'll take you back to Oswald's in the morning."

Tristen leaned back, reaching for her blanket. Juice headed toward the back of the house. "Hey, Juice," Tristen called. "Take care of her, okay?"

He shook his head. "If she'll let me."

Tristen smiled softly. "She might pretend like she doesn't need us, but trust me, she does."