Hi again. :) Thanks for your comments, as always, and I hope you enjoy this one. :)

and if i pass this way again, you can rest assured
i'll always do my best for her, on that i give my word
in a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm
"come in," she said, "i'll give you shelter from the storm"
Bob Dylan, "Shelter From the Storm"

"Oll?" She appeared at the top of the stairs, a question on her brow. "You call the cab?"

"Yep," she said. "It should be here soon."

"Walk me out?" he said, his smile sad.

She took the hand he offered and rested her head against his arm as they waited for the elevator. "I wish you didn't have to go."

"I don't," he said. "I could stay. Jax can live without me."

She grinned and squeezed his palm. "You're very sweet, but I'm pretty sure they'd all be pissed if you missed the ride."

The Sons' annual Easter charity ride was later in the week, and the whole club was supposed to be there. Olivia could just imagine the reaction Opie would get if he said he was staying in New York with her. Neither of them spoke again, because they both knew it was true, until they were out on the street.

He pulled her against him and combed his fingers through her hair. Pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm gonna miss you."

"It's only a couple more weeks," she said.

Her arms went around him, beneath his kutte, and they stood like that for a long time. She didn't want to let him go. It was only a couple of weeks, but in the few days he'd been here she'd realized just how lonely the city was for her, and how much she enjoyed spending time with him. He made her laugh, and she loved waking up next to him in the morning. Snuggling on the couch and watching bad TV and talking about…whatever. Anything.

He leaned back and rested his hand against the side of her neck, so that his fingers tickled her just behind the ear. His expression was so serious, his look so deep, and she felt a flush spread across her cheeks.

"What?" she said.

"Nothin'. Just lookin' at you."

"Oh." Her mouth curved. "What do you see?"

He hitched a shoulder. "You," he said. "Just you. Olivia." He bent to kiss her, sweet and chaste at first, but then with increasing heat as it stretched. "I love you," he murmured when it broke.

Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open, but he forestalled her with a brief touch along her jaw.

"Don't. Don't say anything. It's cool. I can wait."

"Opie—"

"What did I just say? Quiet, woman!"

She laughed and he kissed her again. Caught her around the waist and lifted her off her feet. On the street behind them there was a honk.

"Cab's here," she said.

"He'll wait."

"Call me tonight, okay?" she said between quick, hot kisses. "Let me know you got in all right."

"I will," he said.

"Buddy, you gettin' in or not?"

He hauled in a sigh and waved at the driver, then turned back to her and cupped her face in both hands. His eyes were steady, and a small smile toyed with his mouth. "I think I gotta go," he said.

"Go on," she said. He rained kisses all over her face and she gave him a little shove. "Go! You miss your plane and you'll be pissed."

"Yeah, yeah," he said. He hugged her tight enough to take her breath and finally let go. "See you in a few weeks."

"I'll let you know as soon as I have a date."

"Sure," he said. He opened the cab's door and tossed his bag in. "Take care of yourself, Olivia."

"You too, Ope. Ride safe." She blew him a kiss and, before he could change his mind, he got in the car and shut the door behind him.

"Sorry," he said to the cabbie. "Leavin' my girl for a while. Kinda hard to say goodbye."

The driver shrugged. "Can't really blame you. She's a knockout. Kennedy or Laguardia?"

"Laguardia," he said. "Delta." He craned his neck to watch her out the back window as they drove away, and she stayed on the sidewalk for as long as he could see her. He let out a long sigh and settled back in his seat. Only a few weeks. Then he'd have her back again. And they could actually give this whole thing a try.

The cab turned the corner and disappeared, and Olivia finally trudged back into her building. The elevator ride seemed to last an eternity, and when the doors finally opened on her floor she dragged herself to the loft and shut the door behind her. Leaned against it and let her head fall back.

What the fuck was she doing? She should've gone with him. She didn't have to stay here; her agent could do most of the work for her. But the opening had been a huge success, and they'd already sold three of her pieces. Apparently it was vital she be close and available and…

Olivia wanted all the things her agent was offering. She was ambitious and driven and this was her goddamn dream coming true. Opie knew all of that. He wasn't mad or upset that she'd chosen to stay; he hadn't tried to talk her out of it; but when she thought of him being back in Charming for two or three weeks without her, surrounded by crow eaters and whoever else—she clenched her teeth and pushed away from the door.

She should have told him. Except she hadn't known, not for sure, until she saw that cab turn the corner.

She loved him.

She had no idea exactly when it had happened, or how, but she was crazy stupid in love with Opie Winston.

They hadn't even had sex yet. There had been some serious kissing and heavy petting and that incident on the floor the other day…but she hadn't seen his penis in fifteen years. That wasn't usually how things worked for her. It was sex, then feelings. Feelings from sex. Or…physical intimacy.

Which, on closer thought, they'd had. Sleeping next to someone was one of the more intimate things you could do, and that night on the phone, for all that an entire continent separated them, had been incredibly intimate.

She shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle.

How…how to tell him? Just blurt it out? Over the phone? Or wait until she got back to Charming? Because what if this was just a reaction to being left alone in the city? What if she just missed him a whole lot, and her confused, orgasm-deprived mind (there had been a lot of teasing) thought it meant she was in love with him?

She didn't buy that. She could try to talk herself out of it all day, but none of her doubts or second guessing mattered. She loved him. She loved him like coming in from the cold or rediscovering a book you read and loved as a kid, and hadn't seen since. She loved him like hot chocolate on a snow day and homemade strawberry ice cream on the Fourth of July.

Blushing, she pressed both hands to her face. She was in way over her head. How did any of this work? She'd loved Juice, sure, but they'd been in high school. It had been several months—a little over a year, by the time she finally ended it, but seven months of that they'd been apart—when they were seventeen years old.

She was twenty-nine now. An adult, supposedly, and more equipped to deal with things like falling in love with one of her best friends.

A deep, steadying breath and she smoothed her palms down her thighs. They'd be fine. Even if she had no clue what to do, Opie did. He steadied her. Calmed her. He was her…shelter from the storm, if she were inclined to quote Bob Dylan.

She wandered upstairs and fell back onto the bed. Wiggled out of her jeans and kicked them away before she stripped her t-shirt off, then her bra. The pillow smelled of him, and there were a few long brown hairs on it. She grinned. Boy needed a haircut.

Sunlight streamed in the loft's high windows and dappled the sheets. Lit up parts of her skin and brightened her freckles. She ran a hand along the curve of her hip and closed her eyes as she imagined Opie touching her there. He'd done that—a couple of times—over the weekend, but only through her clothes.

Olivia bit her lip around a giggle and reached for her vibrator. Maybe she would tell him about this later. Maybe. She wasn't sure if they were at the "masturbated while thinking about you" stage yet, but she could definitely tease him…

Before she got started she grabbed her phone and typed in a text: I'm definitely not thinking about you. Or your penis. While in bed. Nearly naked.

She squeezed her eyes shut and hit send, then almost immediately wished it back. She should've at least waited until she knew he was on the plane, because that way he wouldn't get it until he was back in California and—

A bing interrupted her thoughts, and for a moment she didn't want to check it.

-JC I almost tripped walkin in the airport don't do that

Good almost trip, or bad?

-is there a GOOD way to almost trip!?

The mental image made her laugh. Sorry, Winston. I'll keep it to myself from now on.

-no. didn't say that. pls. details.

Maybe let's wait until tonight. On the phone? Gives you an excuse to call me.

-as if I need one. gotta go my turn. talk 2night.

She typed a quick goodbye and swapped phone for sex toy. Now that she knew he'd be thinking about her while she did it, she needed to come even more. She wanted to make him come, like he'd done for her that night on the phone. She wanted to hear him: his high, desperate gasps and his breathless, hungry moans. More than she'd heard this weekend. Him chanting her name and begging for more and, God, making her beg—!

Fuck. The ringing phone interrupted her, and she almost ignored it. But it could be Opie, maybe, not content to wait until tonight…

Except the caller ID had Tara's number. Jesus it was early as hell over there. "Tara," she said once she was sure she had control of her breathing. "Hey, everything okay?"

"Ollie!"

She sounded both relieved and terrified, and Olivia forgot about Opie and the vibrator completely. "What's wrong?"

Olivia heard a hiccup, like Tara was trying not to cry. "It's Kohn," she said. "He found me."

Olivia got Tara calmed down and managed to wrestle some details out of her. She hadn't seen Kohn in Charming; wasn't sure if he were there or not; but the last few days she'd been getting hangup calls from an unknown number. She'd tried not to think about it too much—but then last night he left a message.

Tara had played it for her and it gave Olivia chills. It sounded so…if you didn't know, if you hadn't seen him in action (or a younger version of him, as Olivia had), you would think it was a perfectly solicitous message. A man concerned about his girlfriend. Worried that she needed him.

This man wasn't stupid, and he knew enough about the law to use and manipulate it. Tara would have to get a new restraining order in California, and there was no way that message was getting her one.

Tara had to work, and Olivia encouraged her to go. The hospital was public; if Kohn were in Charming, that was probably the last place he'd try anything. Plus working would help get her mind off everything, and that was only for the good.

As soon as they hung up she tried to call Opie, but it was apparently too late. One ring and straight to voicemail. She wasn't sure she wanted to leave this in a message.

Chewing her lip the whole way through his brief greeting and the subsequent instructions, she finally settled on, "Hey, it's Oll. Call me as soon as you get this. It's about Tara. Urgent, okay? Or, better yet, call her. Or go straight to her place. But still call me to let me know you got this. Sorry. I think you know what this is about. Um. Have a safe flight and we'll talk soon."

Fucking voicemail.

Tara had given her strict, explicit instructions to not call Jax under any circumstances on pain of slow and horrible death and I'm a surgeon so fucking well believe I can do it, and with Opie incommunicado…Olivia wasn't sure who could help.

Gemma?

Ugh, no, that was as bad as Jax. Maybe worse.

Olivia had pulled her shirt back on as she talked to Tara, and now she hurried downstairs where there was more room to pace. They had both agreed someone in Charming needed to know. Someone who could look out for her and call in cavalry if needs be. Cavalry, of course, meant SAMCRO, but…maybe Unser?

No, that wasn't a great idea. Kohn was a Fed, and without a restraining order Unser's hands were tied. He could do things for the club on a local scale, but once the Feds stepped in he had to move along.

Fuck.

No.

There was no other choice. No one left. Unless she dragged Chibs or Tig into this, and their loyalty would be to Jax and the club before Olivia or Tara. So would Opie's, ultimately, but she knew she could count on him to keep the secret for a little while.

The only other person who fit that description was Juice. She wouldn't have to spend and hour explaining why Tara wasn't ready for Jax or all of SAMCRO to know, and he would help. He would look out for her as much as he could; keep an eye on her place and…

Plus Ope would be off soon on the charity run, and he'd said Juice was one of the guys staying behind to look after the clubhouse and TM. So Juice would be in Charming, with the bulk of the club gone, and it would leave him freer to keep an eye on Tara.

"Dammit," she muttered. "Fine. Fine!"

They hadn't talked since before she left for New York, and she still had the message he'd left the night of the gala saved in her voicemail. If she were being completely honest with herself, she'd missed him. His smile, mostly. Not just the smile itself—though that was certainly nice—but all the ways it made her feel. She associated Juice's smile with some of the happiest times in her life, and even now when she saw it she couldn't help but return it.

She hit the speed dial button for his number and waited. If it went to voicemail she would just—she couldn't hang up without leaving a message. He would worry. So she'd just say hi, she'd been thinking about him since the gala—no, that was no good. She'd just say hi, and ask him—

"Liv? What's up? Are you still in New York? Is everything okay?"

Her entire body relaxed the second she heard his voice, and she had to fight the urge to cry. "Yeah," she said, but she choked on it. She took a deep breath and let it out before trying again. "Yeah, I'm still in the city. And I'm okay."

"Huh. You don't really sound it."

He sounded half-asleep—it was barely seven there—and when she heard a squeak like bedsprings she knew she'd woken him.

"I'm sorry it's so early."

"No," he said. "Nah, it's okay, just gimme a sec." He muffled the phone, probably against his chest, and she heard him murmur something to someone.

Oh. He wasn't alone.

Well duh. How stupid to just assume he would be. He had crow eaters, and besides that she was sure he would have no trouble picking up nearly anyone he wanted. Olivia had moved on, hadn't she? Why shouldn't Juice?

He said he'd tell her if he met anyone important—but maybe that didn't apply when she was on the other side of the country. It was sort of an awkward phone call to have, wasn't it? Ms. Manners hadn't written an etiquette book on that particular conversation.

"Okay, sorry," he said. "Tell me what's wrong."

"You're with someone."

"That's what's wrong?"

She wasn't sure if he sounded amused or surprised, and she had the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him. "No, of course not. I just meant—I'm interrupting, and I'm sure they love the idea of you stepping away at the crack of dawn to take a call from your ex."

"It's okay," he said. "Yvonne's cool. She knows—I mean. I told her about us. Some. About us."

Olivia wrapped her free arm around her stomach and wandered toward the windows. She could see the city bustling down in the street below. The hotdog guy was on the corner, and the falafel truck was just pulling into its spot. A cop chatted with the homeless guy who usually crashed on the bench across the street. Maybe moving him along. Maybe just talking.

"You sure that doesn't make it worse?" she said.

"I don't know. Maybe." He paused, and there was the open and shutting of cabinets in the background. "Look, Liv, I would've told you about her, but—"

"Hey, it's okay. I know we had that talk about it, but I've been away. I wouldn't expect you to call me up out of the blue to say you were seeing someone."

"I'm not exactly seeing her. At least, I wasn't."

"But you are now?"

He paused. Water ran. "Yeah. I guess. Maybe."

She pressed a hand to her mouth and swallowed around the lump in her throat. "That's good, Juice. I mean it. It's really good."

"Hhmm." He cleared his own throat and his tone changed, turned brisker. "I guess that's not why you're calling me, then."

"What?" she said, blinking a little.

"At—seven-oh-four in the morning, I'm guessing you're not calling to tell me about you and Ope."

"Me and Ope? Juicy—"

"I told him he should go."

He'd thrown her again, and for a moment she couldn't speak. Finally, "Go where?"

"To New York, Liv. I told him he had to be the one to go. Tara couldn't, because of the hospital, and you invited everybody but I know it wasn't everybody you wanted. Especially not me. So I told him he had to be the one." A brief pause, then, softer, "He's the one you wanted there anyway."

The homeless man ambled down the block, but not before turning back to shout something at the cop. Moving him along, then.

"I'm not sure we should be having this conversation on the phone."

He took a long breath. "Not sure I can have it lookin' at you, Olivia. But, you know, if I gotta hear about you and another guy, I'd rather it be Ope. Somebody I know. Somebody who—who'll really take care of you. Don't get mad," he said as she opened her mouth. "I know you don't need takin' care of."

She could hear the smile in his voice, and she rubbed a hand against the center of her chest, where the pain was. "I do, actually," she said. "This time I do. Or—I need—I need you."

"What?" he said, and she thought she heard a box of cereal hit the floor. He cursed. "Goddammit. Dropped Frosted Flakes everywhere."

She muffled a giggle. "I'm sorry. That maybe came out a little wrong. Fuck, I'm fucking this all up and all I need is a favor. Your help. I need your help."

"Oh."

"An important favor. For Tara."

"She need somebody to pick up her dry cleaning while she's busy savin' babies?" he said, and beneath his joking tone she thought she heard something…else.

"No, come on, nothing like that." She spun away from the window and resumed pacing. "Look, okay, it's kind of a long story, and I probably would've told you sooner, but Tara didn't really want people knowing."

There was a sound like the scrape of a chair along linoleum. Then, "Tell me. I'm listening."

She fell down on the couch and spilled the entire story: Tara and Kohn, the trip to Chicago, her call to Opie for help, and all the precautions they'd taken to keep Tara safe in Charming. "He found her, Juice. Not sure if he's been looking for her the whole time, but he found her, and I guarantee you he'll be headed west soon."

"Shit. You tell Opie all this?"

"He's on the plane already."

"Ah. Yeah. Guess you called him first."

She let out an irritated sigh. "He knows everything, and it didn't mean letting someone new in on Tara's private life. Gimme a break here, Ortiz."

He laughed, quick and rough. "Yeah, okay, you're right. Sorry." His voice sobered. "You want me to check in on her? Make sure he's not hangin' around?"

"Yes," she said with relief. "Please. Don't tell the rest of the club—least of all Jax—but just kind of keep an eye. Maybe casually find out from Unser if the Feds have been poking around in anything? Or if they've sent somebody to Charming? I wouldn't put it past him to exploit all his law enforcement connections."

"Shit," Juice said on a breath.

"Yeah."

"It's okay, Liv. I'm on it."

"Thank you," she said.

"Of course. Tara's my friend, too."

"I know. But still—thank you. I'm all the way over here and I feel so fucking helpless. She's alone, Juice. And this guy, I mean…he makes TJ Flanary look like a Boy Scout."

"TJ Flanary fifteen years later, with a badge."

"Exactly. If something happened to her—"

"It's okay. You don't gotta explain. I know what Tara means to you."

She rubbed at her face, trying to will the tears to stay in her eyes. "I hope you know what you mean to me too, Juicy."

It maybe wasn't the smartest thing to say, under the circumstances, but she hated him feeling like—she didn't know. That she was using him? That he was her last choice? That she'd only called because she knew he, of all people, would drop everything and do what she asked?

It wasn't how she meant it, at all, and she needed him to know that.

"I think I do," he said, quietly.

"I'm just saying—be careful. He's dangerous, he's armed, and he's a Fed. He could do some real damage to SAMCRO with the proper motivation."

"I know he could," Juice said. "But, look. I can do some real damage, too—and I can make it look like nothin' happened."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a hacker, Liv. Remember?"

She grinned, big and bright. "I knew I called the right man for the job."

"Yeah you did."

She heard a voice in the background, a soft feminine voice, and Juice said something before he was back. "Sorry," he said. "I should go."

"Probably. But thank you. I mean it."

"I know you do," he said. "We'll talk when you get back. I mean—uh. If you want to."

"I do," she said. She wished she could touch him. Maybe just brush her fingers against his cheek or squeeze his hand. "Yeah, of course I do."

"Great. Good. I'll, um…we'll…that sounds…I mean, ya know. It sounds real good."

She laughed again. He was such a dweeb. "Goodbye, Juan Carlos."

"Bye, Liv," he said, and she could tell he was grinning.

She snapped the phone closed and rubbed a hand through her hair. That had been a strange conversation, to say the least, but—Juice would take care of Tara. Apparently he was planning some digital mayhem, too, and as long as he were careful (which of course he would be), that sounded like a solid strategy.

"Play to your strengths, Ortiz," she murmured. "Don't play to someone else's."

Dropping the phone on the coffee table, she got up to hit the shower. She'd lazed around enough for one morning; she had shit to do.

Take it as you will, my friends.