Longer chapter than usual today...much longer...but c'est la vie.

Thanks as always for your kind words, loves. :)

don't you ever want to lose control?
wake the sleeping beauty in your soul?
darling, first i need to ask your name
then if you'll ever fall in love again
Eliot Morris, "Will She Ever Fall in Love Again?"

Opie's message must have gotten through, because it was days before Olivia saw Juice again. When she finally did he had several butterfly bandages on his cheek, a healing bruise around his eye, and a split lip. She knew she should stay away, but she didn't want him to think…

"Hey," she said, quietly, as she sidled closer.

He cast her a quick look over his shoulder and grabbed an oil filter off the shelf. "Hey," he said.

"I'm sorry about your face. I told Opie—"

"It's fine," he said. "I deserved it." He turned to face her and took a breath.

"What?" she said at his expression.

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Wait until you mean it. "Nothin'," he said. "I should…" He held up the filter and nodded toward the garage.

"Yeah," she said and took a step back to let him get by. "See you around, Juicy."

He managed a tight smile. "You too, Oli—Liv."

Her brow furrowed, but before she could say anything he was past her and gone. Well. It was a start. They'd had a conversation, however brief and stilted, without either one insulting the other. He'd called her Liv. Maybe they had a chance to reach some sort of civility between them.

It went on like that for weeks. They only ever saw each other in passing, while he was on his way to do some club business or when they changed shifts, and they greeted each other cordially but formally.

One night after a long shift Olivia was in the clubhouse trying to decide if she wanted to go home. She'd had plans that night, but they'd gotten cancelled at the last minute. She was dressed for them, and it seemed silly to get all dressed up and not do anything. She'd talked a few of the crow eaters into a round of pool when they heard the rumble of bikes outside.

The girls perked up and disappeared en masse, like a flock of birds. Olivia sighed and put her cue back on the rack. So much for that.

They filed in and Olivia decided it was time to make herself scarce. She went to get her purse from behind the bar when Chibs rolled up.

"Look at this, lads! We got ourselves a lovely new bartender."

"Sorry, Chibby, I'm on my way out the door. You boys are on your own."

"Ach, darlin', don't be like that! Let's have a wee dram."

"Tempting, you Scottish charmer, but I can't." She grabbed a glass and poured him a shot of Jameson. "On the house, handsome."

She winked, fetched her bag, and headed for the door. The guys greeted her as she went, and she offered everyone a wave and a smile, but she was glad when she finally made it out to the lot.

Except she stopped short, because Juice and Jax were walking straight toward her, and there was no way to avoid them without it being extremely awkward. Especially since Jax had already waved his hand in greeting.

He blew out a whistle as they got closer. "Lookin' good. That usually how you dress for work?"

She rolled her eyes: she had on a short blue dress with a flared skirt, and high pumps. "I had a date tonight, but I got stood up."

"Dressed like that?" he said. "Your date was either blind or stupid."

Olivia couldn't help but smile even though she'd been listening to Jax' schtick nearly their whole lives. "It wasn't her fault. Her job is—" She broke off with a shrug. "Anyway, I was on my way out."

"I'm goin' inside," Juice said to Jax. "You need anything else?"

"Nah, brother. See you in there."

Juice nodded, then glanced at Olivia. "Hey," he said.

"Hey."

There was a strained pause. Then Juice said, "Okay. Well. Bye."

Jax squinted after him. "What the fuck?" he said.

Olivia's mouth twisted. "We aren't exactly speaking these days."

"Huh. That got anything to do with Opie beatin' his face in last month?"

"Maybe," she said. "A little. I don't really want to talk about it."

"Okay," he said. "Fair enough." He studied her a moment. "You wanna get outta here?"

"I said I was leaving, didn't I?"

He grinned and ducked his head. "I meant with me, Oll. Come on; I feel like I've barely seen you the whole time you've been back."

She thought it over a minute. "Yeah, sure," she said. "Can I meet you somewhere?"

"What, you don't want a lift?"

"In this skirt? No. I think I'll take my car."

He lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I've been stayin' here since Wendy and me—so maybe your place?"

That wasn't what she'd been expecting. She thought he meant a bar or something…but, then, if she were in the mood for a bar she'd turn around and go back in the clubhouse. "Sure," she said. "You know where it is?"

"I'll just follow you," he said.

"Whatever you say, chief." She got in and waited until he got his bike started before she pulled out. It was a short drive, and at one point he pulled up beside her and revved his engine. She gave him the finger and she could hear his laugh even over the rumble of Cougar and Harley.

Once inside, she gestured toward the coatrack near the door. "Kutte, gun, boots," she said. "Please."

He gave her a look, but sat down on the bench to do as she asked.

"I'm going to change," she said, taking off her own shoes to let them dangle from her fingers. "Make yourself at home. There's beer in the fridge."

When she reappeared a few minutes later he was on her couch with a beer in hand and another on the table. She'd taken her makeup off and changed into yoga pants and a tank top with thick socks on her feet, and he grinned at her.

"What, I don't get sexy date night Ollie?"

"Nah," she said and swiped her beer off the table. "You get lounging around the house Ollie."

He took the bottle from her and twisted the cap before he handed it back. She took a long sip and watched him a moment. Then, "Since you and Wendy what?"

"Huh?"

"Back at the garage you said you'd been living in the clubhouse dorms since you and Wendy—? What?"

"Oh." He scowled and danced the bottle cap across his knuckles. "We're gettin' divorced. I'm done with the drugs and the bullshit. Just can't take it anymore."

"I'm sorry, Jax. That sucks."

"It does, I guess—mostly because…" He hauled in a huge sigh. "She's pregnant."

Olivia choked on her beer. "She's what?"

"Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction."

"How far along is she?"

"Like three months, I guess?"

"Wow," Olivia said.

"Uh huh."

There was a pause while Olivia absorbed it. "What's she going to do?"

His forehead wrinkled. "Do about what?"

She waved a hand. "Is she going to keep it?"

"Why wouldn't she keep it? It's my kid."

"Well, yeah, but it's her kid too. And, more importantly at this point, her body."

He snorted and took a pull from his bottle. "If she gave a fuck about her body she wouldn't keep pumpin' it full of drugs. Junkie whore."

"Jackson Teller! That's your wife and the mother of your child you're talking about. And I don't allow that kind of language in my house."

"Jesus, Oll," he said, shaking his head. "You ain't changed a bit."

"In this context I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"So what the fuck's up with you and Juice?" he said, apropos of nothing.

She made a face at him. "Nothing's up. We just—we had kind of a…falling out, I guess, and we both decided it would be easier if we just steered clear. That's all."

"Okay," he said. "So why'd Opie kick his ass?"

"You should probably talk to Ope about that. He doesn't answer to me."

He pointed his bottle at her. "Don't gimme that look. He told me to ask you. Said it wasn't his business to tell me."

"You really want to know?"

"It concerns my club, Ollie; one brother beatin' up another. So yeah. I want to know."

The club. Of course. Naturally it didn't have anything to do with her. Finally she sighed. "Fine. Go get us another couple beers."

When he was back and settled again he gestured for her to go ahead. She told him the whole thing, starting with the night seven years ago and ending with their encounter in the bathroom last month. He listened quietly, and when she was done he fell back against the couch and stared at her.

"That's fucked up," he said.

"Yeah, it kinda was."

"Not Juice. You. You fucked him knowing you were goin' home to marry Ben Collins in a couple weeks. Why would you do that?"

She lifted her hands in an exasperated shrug. "I'm human, Jackson. Are you saying if Tara showed up in Charming tomorrow and offered, you wouldn't say yes? Wendy or no Wendy."

"Wendy and me are split up."

"Still. She's pregnant with your kid. It's a complication."

He ducked his head. "It's different," he mumbled.

"Why? How, exactly? You think Juice and I didn't love each other as much as you and Tara? Or is it different because you're a guy?"

"I don't know it's just different," he said. "And, for real, I'm not sure I blame Juice all that much for what he did. I mean, I'm pissed because he did it to you, and you're like—whatever—my friend or whatever, but still I'm not sure how wrong he was just in general."

"Wow, Jax, your chivalry shines like a beacon in these dark times," she said.

"I'm just sayin', Oll. You used him. He used you. Seems to me you're even."

She opened her second beer and sipped. "Minor difference: I didn't set out to use him. Yeah, I should've told him about Ben so he went into it with all the facts, but—I never meant for it to go the way it did."

"Oh, so you accidentally used him. That's okay then."

She threw her bottle cap at him. "You're an asshole, Teller." He threw it back and she dodged. "Look, I'm not saying I'm innocent. I know what I did, believe me. But it was a long time ago. And all things considered? He acted like a superior asshole."

"Well," he said after a moment, "I guess I don't really blame Opie for kickin' his ass."

"I asked him not to, if it makes you feel any better."

"You never want people to get the ass kickin' they deserve."

"Contrary to your belief, violence doesn't solve every problem."

"I don't know," he said. "A knife to the kidney cleared your TJ problem right up."

"Oh my God. Remind me why I invited you over?"

"You missed me. I'm cute as fuck. And I'm charming."

"Well you're certainly not hurting in the self esteem department."

They fell quiet while he seemed to contemplate the print above the fireplace: a ship on storm-tossed seas, but the whole thing sort of blurry and wild, like a kid went off on it with a pack of Crayolas.

"So…" he said, trying to sound casual. "You talk to Tara lately?"

She smothered a grin and drank her beer. "It's been a few days."

"Huh," he said. Then, "How's she doin'?"

"Good, I think." She paused. "At least—" She sighed and he gave her a curious look.

"What?"

"It's probably nothing."

He shifted closer, his brows drawn together and his face tense. "You've got good instincts, Ollie, and nobody knows Tara better than you. What's up?"

She bit her lip a little and let out another breath. "She started seeing this guy a while back. She used to talk about him all the time, how great he was, how considerate, blahblah."

Jax gave an impatient nod.

"Lately, though, it's…I don't know. She hadn't mentioned him in a while, so I asked her about him and she just…she got really weird. Kinda quiet and brisk and then it was all 'I gotta go early day tomorrow' and whatever."

"You think this fucker's hurtin' her?"

"I don't know," Olivia said. "Can you imagine Tara putting up with that? Letting a guy hit her?"

Jax' face told her everything she needed to know about that idea. "You should ask her about it straight out. If she's in some kinda trouble—"

"I shouldn't've said anything," she said.

"Ollie—"

"Jax." She met his eyes and her look was frank. "She wouldn't want you knowing about it. I'll talk to her, but then we'll figure out how to handle it. If anything needs to be handled. It's not really your business."

"Tara's my business," he said, his voice rough.

"No, Jackson. She's really not." She brushed her fingers over the back of the hand that rested on the couch between them. "I'm sorry. I know that sounds harsh, but—"

"No," he said. "Nah, Oll, you're right. She left. Made her choice and got outta town."

"You married someone else. How torn up over her can you be?"

He lifted his brows at her. "You married someone else."

"Ah. Touché." Her chin dropped to her chest as she laughed. "Who would've thought? Four of the six of us already divorced before the age of thirty."

"I think we all just married the wrong people," he said.

"Even Donna and Opie?"

"I don't know, man. That one's tough. I think maybe in another life, you know? Like if Ope weren't all about SAMCRO. Or maybe if he hadn't gone down for those five years. That was just—it was too much too fast. If it'd happened now, maybe, after they'd been married for longer? Then maybe they coulda got through it."

"Kind of a nice idea."

"Which part?" he said.

Her mouth twisted. "Somewhere there's a version of Opie and Donna who are blissfully happy."

"Yeah. A version of Tara and me, too. You and Juice."

"Juice and Tara."

"You and Opie," he said, laughing now.

"You and Opie!"

"You and me," he said with a smirk.

"Mmm," she said. "That is a bizarro world."

"I don't know," he said.

She gave him a look. "What?"

He shrugged. "You're kinda cute, sometimes. And you were my first kiss."

"Be still my heart," she said. "We were twelve, Jax."

"You sayin' you seriously never thought about it?" he said, his tone falling somewhere between offended and amused.

Her nose scrunched. "Not—really. I mean, maybe it occurred to me, but it wasn't anything I ever pondered. Why? Did you?"

"Nah. You're a pain in the ass."

"Okay," she said. "That's what I thought."

He set his empty bottle on the table in a line with the other two. "Twelve was a long time ago, though."

"Uh huh," she said, doubtfully.

He looked at her, that coaxing smile curving his mouth so that his dimples came out. "Come on, Oll. My marriage is over. You got stood up, and clearly there ain't nothin' happenin' with Juice."

"Jax—"

"What've we got to lose, really? We both know we aren't interested in anything more than some fun. We should give a shot."

Her mouth fell open. "Give what a shot?"

"Ollie." He scooted next to her and brushed her hair back behind her ear. His voice went low. "You know what I'm talkin' about." He kissed the curve of her ear and she jerked away.

"Whoa there, cowboy. Seriously?"

He shrugged. "Like I said: why not?"

"You're such a romantic, Teller, Jesus."

"You want romance, baby, go make up with Juice."

She glared at him. "Fine," she said. "Fine, we'll give it a try. But I'm not suckin' your dick."

He considered a moment. "Fair enough," he said and pulled her against him.

Her breath caught and her eyes went wide and he grinned just before their lips met. His fingers tangled in her hair and…

Nothing. It felt like kissing…her brother, maybe, without the icky incest taboo, which would at least be something. It lasted another several seconds, but it really wasn't anything much more than just…wet. He was a good kisser, technically speaking, but for all his skill it just didn't do anything for her.

He pulled away with a frown. "You could kiss me back, ya know. It'd help."

"I am kissing back!"

He shifted in his seat. "Let's just—let's try it again."

"Okay," she said.

He started to put a hand around her waist, then moved it to her shoulder instead. She adjusted her posture a little and pressed her palm to his chest.

"Um, so—" she said.

"Yeah, so, like—"

He tilted his head and tugged her closer. Their noses bumped and they realigned to try again. He brushed his lips against hers. Again. Then pressed his mouth to her mouth and she burst into a fit of giggles.

"What?" he said, jerking away with an exasperated growl.

"Nothing!" she said. "Nothing, nothing, I'm sorry. I'll be serious. Do it again."

He scowled and threw himself back against the opposite arm of the couch. "Never mind."

She giggled again. "I'm sorry, Jackson. I didn't mean—"

"No," he said and waved a hand. "It was a stupid idea."

She agreed, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings any more than she already had. "Hey, at least now we know, right? One less thing to wonder about."

"Yeah, I guess."

She couldn't stop laughing, and at his glare she gave a helpless shrug. "I think it was better when we were twelve." He just pouted harder. "Aw, come on, what's the matter?" She poked him in the knee. "Why the long face, Jackie boy?"

He glowered. "Never had a girl laugh at me before."

"Oh," she said. Her lips twitched and she bit down to smother the grin that threatened. "That wasn't—I mean, don't take that seriously, Jackson. You know me: a hair giggle trigger."

"Sure," he said. "Look, Oll—don't tell anybody about this, okay?"

"Don't you think you're overreaction a little? It's not like we were naked and you couldn't get it up. We kissed. It sucked." She hitched a shoulder. "Life goes on."

"Olivia," he said with a huff.

"Of course I won't tell anyone. Who would I tell?"

"I don't know," he said, and he wouldn't look at her. "Tara, maybe."

She was definitely telling Tara. She would get a huge kick out of it, and there was no way Olivia was missing out on that.

"Uh," she said. "Sure, Jax. Mum's the word."

"Thanks, Ollie," he said. "I appreciate it."

"No problem," she said. "So since there won't be any sex tonight, how about another beer?"

He snorted. "God you're a pain in the ass. I'm glad I decided not to fuck you."

"You decided? You keep tellin' yourself that, sugar."

"You weren't gonna suck my dick anyway," he said with an unconcerned shrug. "Not sure I missed much."

She rolled her eyes and didn't rise to his bait. Pushed up from the couch and collected their empty bottles. "Try to keep it in your pants while I'm gone, Teller. That lamp over there looks friendly but it's really just a tease."

"Fuck you, Gable."

"Keep dreamin', Jackson."

The sound of his laughter followed her to the kitchen, and she was glad they'd successfully dodged that bullet. She supposed sometimes you really did have to get something out of your system. He wouldn't be coming up with any more bright ideas like that again, and they could go back to giving each other shit like always.

Thank goodness.

Olivia woke the next morning with a fuzzy head and only vague memories of anything that had happened the night before. She could sort of recall their botched attempt at a kiss, and lots of talking, and at one point she thought maybe Jax had tried to act out a scene from a Kurt Vonnegut novel when she told him she hadn't read it…

After that it all blurred, and she dragged herself to the shower with a groan. She made her sure-fire hangover cure even though the idea of food made her want to vomit, but by the time she was through with the sandwich, orange juice, and Alka-Seltzer, she felt remarkably better.

It was only then she remembered their conversation about Tara. She regretted telling him as much as she had, even as she wished she'd told him more. He was the one person who came close to knowing Tara as well as Olivia did, and she would've liked to use him as a sounding board.

She was worried. Really, actually worried, and the less Tara talked to her the more she worried. They used to talk a couple of times a week, Tara calling when she could get time in her demanding residency program, and Olivia sometimes leaving her long, rambling messages when Tara was working. They'd text in the middle of the night. Wake each other up with phone calls first thing in the morning.

Neither of them kept regular hours, and it showed in their patterns of communication.

But lately, as in the past several weeks—roughly corresponding to Olivia's arrival in Charming—Tara hadn't been returning her messages. No random texts. The only time they talked was when Olivia called her and happened to catch her between rounds or something.

Olivia's behavior had been similar when things started to really go bad with TJ. She hadn't wanted to face her friends knowing she was letting someone treat her the way he did, and she hadn't wanted to face their worried glances or well-meaning questions.

She picked up the phone and dialed Tara's number, and she was so surprised when Tara actually answered that for a second she didn't say anything.

"Ollie?" Tara said again. "You there?"

"Yeah, babe. Sorry. I'm a little hungover, so not all with it."

"Ohh. Hot date last night?"

To anyone else she would've sounded like regular Tara, but Olivia knew her better than that. "Not exactly. Hung out with an old friend and drank too much." She took a deep breath. "Tara, we need to talk."

"Aren't we talking now?" she said, doubtfully.

"I think you know what I mean, love. Please, Tara. Talk to me. What's going on? Why don't you ever call me anymore? Why do you make excuses to get off the phone as fast as possible, and practically flip your shit if I mention Jeff?"

"I don't—"

"Tara. Two words: TJ. Flanary."

There was a long pause, so long Olivia checked to make sure the call was still connected. Then, "Fuck," Tara said on a shaking breath. "I'm pregnant, Ollie," she whispered.

Olivia's initial reaction was happiness, because she knew Tara had always wanted kids—but it was quickly replaced with dread. Tara did not sound like a joyful mommy-to-be. She sounded scared and miserable and trapped.

"Tell me," Olivia said. "I'm listening."

Like a dam breaking, Tara spilled the whole tale: seemingly perfect boyfriend, attentive, great job. Gradually his attention had turned obsessive, even violent. The pregnancy. The restraining order that he seemed content to ignore. Tara's fear and dread.

Olivia told her to make an appointment and call her back, and Olivia would be on the next plane to Chicago. Tara had argued at first, but Olivia knew it was just token resistance. She gave in and promised, then she had to go.

Olivia hung up, glad she'd called but furious she hadn't insisted sooner. She scrubbed her face with both hands. Well. It didn't matter now. She just had to do the best she could for Tara going forward, no matter what that meant.

She couldn't tell Jax what was going down, but she would tell Opie. He would keep it to himself, and if shit went south she'd be able to call him without a million explanations or excuses.

It wasn't until she stopped in front of the mirror to do her makeup that she realized she was smiling. Smiling? When her best friend was in crisis? When had that happened?

Opie, she thought and smiled again.

Oh. Well. That was to be expected. They spent about ninety percent of their time together laughing about stupid stuff, so of course she'd sort of trained herself to smile when she thought about him.

She shrugged and went back to her mascara. Mystery solved, and no big deal.

I didn't want just the stuff with Jax, not just bc it was a little short, but also because it didn't really move anything forward...so hence the much longer chapter, so I could get the Tara stuff in. :)